


Don't Carry It All

by monolithjemma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Americans can be cute too, Angst, Angst and Humor, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Lab situations, British BrOTP, But let's let him be happy in the meantime, Dating, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fitz needs love too, FitzSimmons may be endgame, Happily Ever After, He loves Simmons so much, He's such a cinnamon roll, Poor Fitz, Probably too much, Romance, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Will write this fic in installments to stay canon-compliant, You better believe it, eventually, innocent for now, innocent kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monolithjemma/pseuds/monolithjemma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he's called in for a consult on one of Stark's projects (not to mention a much-needed break from the Playground) Fitz starts to think outside the Jemma-box. Just a little.</p><p>~ Or ~ </p><p>Fitz finally starts to get the love and adoration he deserves. From a very cute, very curvy, very forward American triple-PhD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1 - Here We Come to a Turning of the Season

**Author's Note:**

> Well, cats and kittens, I knew something was off about our dear Jems in 3x03 and 3x04. I don't blame her for Space Boyfriend, but my poor little shipper heart was definitely shattered. Especially for my sweet sexy cinnamon roll Leo Fitz. 
> 
> It's not about revenge, or spite, or even 100% abandoning the ship (though I'm getting closer every episode TBH.) It's about wanting our dear darling Dr. Fitzy to be REALLY loved and to have a healthy, happy relationship. 
> 
> I can't stand most non-canon compliant fic, especially writing it, so I'm going to do this in installments to keep it that way. Let's see how well it works. ;) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I <3 your comments. 
> 
> And, as always, totally game to consider headcanons or prompts for inclusion. Kisses!

Fitz had spent the last few days drawing up schematics for how to reconstruct the portal, but coming up with the formulas to force the shattered rock back into shape would fall almost entirely on Jemma. Ever since he’d known her, Fitz was most comfortable keeping Jemma company in the lab while she worked. He’d always loved tinkering with random new inventions and being there to complete her sentences, to catch a glimpse at the adorable way she crinkled her eyes when she was on the edge of brilliance. 

Now, though, the only thing he feels when he looks at her was the desperate need to get as far from her as possible. 

He spends an hour in the gym, letting his body take over the exercises with the punching bag and the miles on the treadmill Bobbi had made him do to keep up some semblance of health while he searched for Jemma. She promised him he’d feel weird without doing the workout for a day when they’d started, and he hadn’t believed her. But damn her, she’d been right.  
Next, he does his laundry. Fixes a cup of tea. Reads through two back issues of his favorite Engineering Periodical. Decides to inventory the shelves of crap Mack has let accumulate in the garage. 

Coulson catches him on his way there. “Fitz, can I have a word?”

When Fitz sits down in front of Coulson’s desk, he slouches, letting the firm back of the chair support him. He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t try to fill empty space with meaningless words. There’s nothing to say anyway. 

“I need you to leave for a couple days,” Coulson says, never one to mince words.

“Sir?” 

“You’re pacing around the Playground, making everyone crazy. We’re in a holding pattern with ATCU and the Inhumans. Simmons is crunching the formulas for the portal. You’ve given orders for all the Zephyr maintenance and updates. You need something to do – something useful.”

In the past, Fitz would have bumbled out some excuse, stammered a protest. Now he just sighs. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Stark needs you. He caught wind of the existence of your ICERs, and as much as I hate to let Tony have the same toys I do, he wants to do some R&D on their variants and how they could be useful to his team.”

Fitz’s mouth gapes open. For the first time in months, the constant stream of Jemma, Jemma, Jemma running through his head goes quiet, just a faint whisper in the background of this thought. “Tony Stark. Wants me. To help the Avengers?”

Coulson beams. “I told him I could spare you. Not for long,” he warns, “but enough for you to keep me on good terms with the powers that be, and to get a breath of fresh air.”

“I’d hardly call Manhattan ‘fresh air,’ Sir,” Fitz grumbles, though he’s smiling, too. He needs Coulson to know he’s grateful. 

“You know what I mean,” Coulson says. “See you in a few days.”  
***  
When he steps off the Zephyr, Bobbi helps him shoulder his backpack and May even leaves the cockpit to pull him into a rough hug. These women, the sister he never had and the stand-in mom just when he needs them, mean the world to him.  
Jemma doesn’t watch him go – doesn’t even say goodbye. It’s better this way, he thinks, even though it hurts like hell. He’ll go to Stark labs, spend some time in a lab completely alone, without the threat of running into Jemma, seeing her fixing her tea, catching her looking at him in that horrible half-guilty, half-desperate way she does. Every single damn time, it shreds his insides. 

As the Zephyr pulls away, Fitz blinks his eyes madly against the wind it kicks up. It reminds him of the whipping sand on the other side of the portal, when he – 

“Dr. Leo Fitz!” The voice is familiar, though Fitz can’t really place it, until the person it belongs to comes into focus. 

Tony freaking Stark. Welcoming him personally. 

For the first time in months, Fitz’s heart stops for a reason that isn’t Jemma. And it feels damn good. 

“Great to have you, Fitz. Can I call you Fitz? Or would you rather Leo?”

Stark can call Fitz whatever he wants. “Fitz is good, Sir. Great honor to meet you, I’m very appreciative for the invitation, and –“ 

Stark stops him with a wave of a hand. “If you can help out with this, Fitz, it’ll be me who’s honored and appreciative. Really. Let me show you the lab.”

Fitz doesn’t know why he expected the lab to be anything like the Zephyr’s – cramped and dark, techs practically sitting on top of each other as they worked. This lab was bright, white, airy, and organized quite differently than what he was used to. His brain had already set to work trying to understand why someone would have set the beakers in that spot and the spectrometers all the way over there. Recalibrating to someone who wasn’t Simmons would clearly take some time. 

But at least he has time, now. At least he’s giving it to himself. 

“…but that’s just a brief summary of the project, I’ve left full details in the files at your workstation. Now if I could just find your partner…”

“Partner, Sir?”

“Call me Tony.”

“Yes, Tony, okay. I was under the impression that I’d be working alone.”

Stark grins and tilts his chin up, gazing over Fitz’s shoulder. “You’ll be glad you’re not when you meet her. I promise. Unless…oh, shit. I forgot about Simmons.” 

Fitz winces, and fails to duck his head before Stark catches sight of it. “Oh. Things not as peachy as Coulson thought they’d be, huh? Did you need to get away from this Simmons girl? Is that why you’re here?”

Fitz chuckles. “I’m here to help, Sir. Uh, Tony.” 

“Good. Well, so is she.” 

Fitz turns as Stark motions to the person coming up behind him. Her head of shining black hair, which tumbls in waves over her shoulders, is level with his chest, despite the fact that her clacking stiletto heels must have at least a three inch heel. Her white lab coat, emblazoned with an Avengers logo, hugs tight over a simple black dress, which cuts low in front. Fitz’s eyes catch for a second on her chest, and he tells himself it’s because he’s concerned for the safety implications of such a ridiculous neck line. Think of what could get caught in there!

Then she clears her throat, and Fitz drags his gaze up to her eyes which pierce deep blue, right into his own. 

Her smirking red-painted lips tell Fitz she knows exactly what he’s thinking, but the way she casually adjusts her thick black frames tell him she’s used to men staring at her chest.

“Fitz, this is Doctor Alyssa MacTaggart.”

“Another brilliant scientist from Scotland, then? Can’t say I’m surprised.” Fitz grins and offers his hand. Her grip is surprisingly strong for such a tiny woman.

“Pleasure to meet you, Fitz,” she says in an even, clear American English. “Please don’t be disappointed when I tell you the only Glasgow I’ve ever seen is the one in Montana. Did some grad research there at the Hell Creek State Park.”

“Sounds lovely,” Fitz says, pleased when she smiles at his sarcasm. 

“Alright, Alyssa, don’t get too excited. Dr. Fitz here is taken.” 

Fitz looks down where his new partner had taken his hand several seconds ago now, and where her fingers still sit, wrapped in his. Dr. MacTaggart’s eyes fly wide and she steps back, taking her hand with her. “Oh, no, it wasn’t – I didn’t – I mean –“

Stark throws his head back and chortles like he’s just told the most hilarious joke of the decade. “Just messing with you, Al. He’s not taken, really. Or maybe he is. Can’t get a straight story out of this kid.” He laughs again and claps Fitz on the shoulder. “I’ll let you two get to it. No time to waste! Get in touch with Pepper if you have any questions, alright?”

Dr. MacTaggart waves weakly as they watch Stark swagger away, shouting ‘hellos’ to various other scientists and techs dotting the expansive lab. 

Fitz turns back to her. Her eyes look almost nervous, and for the first time ever, he doesn’t question whether he should be the first to speak, what to say. “What should I call you, then? Because in my head you’ve been Dr. MacTaggart, and unless that’s the only thing you’re okay with, I have to say it’s quite a mouthful.”

Her grin is broad, relieved. “Alyssa is fine. I’ve never gone by anything else, unless I had to when a tech needed to remember his place.”

“Good. And I’m Fitz.”

Alyssa scrunches up her nose, sucking air in through her teeth. “Just like my horrible S.O.at Sci-Ops?”

“There’s another Fitz at Sci-Ops?” Fitz had rather liked the idea of being the one and only, but he supposed it was a common enough name. 

“Afraid so, and he tortured us. I mean…not literally. Just, his molecular atomization drills were…well, they were hell.” 

Fitz laughs, remembering cursing those drills himself. “Ah. Well, then, sorry about him. We’re not all like that. And you know what? Leo’s fine. Call me Leo.” Fitz feels something in him shift, and then a whole series of things turning, changing places, reconfiguring into a self that’s still him, just a different version of him, suited especially to this place. 

“Leo,” Alyssa nods, smiling. “Thanks. Should we get to work?” 

“There’s nothing I’d like more,” Fitz says, breathing into the newfound space in his chest. 

To think he’d been dreading this. Starting something new? Wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he thought it would be.


	2. Witness to the Arc Toward the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have three PhDs in computational biology.” 
> 
> Fitz’s eyebrows shoot up. “Three? In what kind of biology?”
> 
> Alyssa laughs, like she’s accustomed to confusion on this subject. It’s light and airy, easy to listen to. Like she’s had a relatively calm life. 
> 
> Listening to Alyssa laugh feels a little like relief. “Um…computational biology. And really, three isn’t as many as it sounds. The base education is the same, but it’s such a quickly developing field that the research base is expanding at an astonishing rate, and I had so many divergent interests that my little projects just sort of got away from me.”
> 
> “Into full-blown Ph.D. theses. And, how old are you?”
> 
> “Twenty-six.” Alyssa shrugs.
> 
> OR 
> 
> Dr. MacTaggert has more PhDs than Jemma Simmons. Just saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive. 
> 
> ;)
> 
> Commenter, I love you.

Chapter 2 – Witness to the Arc Toward the Sun

“Wait, wait.” Alyssa looks up from the memo some Stark Labs intern prepared on the assignment Stark gave them. “The inventor of the ICER is…you?”

“Yeah, well, I – erm. Yes.” Me and Simmons. “The mechanics of it, anyway. Took quite a while to find a balance between size of the weapon and potency of the dendrotoxin. The first model was the size of a bazooka,” he remembers, laughing at the image of Jemma hauling it onto the Bus that first day. 

“Well,” Alyssa says, hefting the ICER model Tony had inexplicably gotten his hands on, passing it between her palms. “This is a decent size for a gun, but there is no way this will be effective for the Avengers. Especially not for the selective specialization Tony wants.”

Fitz wouldn’t lie – it kind of sucked to have another scientist evaluating one of his most impressive pieces of work and basically dismissing it offhand as useless. 

“Though, now I know why Tony called me in on this. Makes sense, I guess.”

“Ah, blast.” Fitz shakes his head. He’s so used to knowing every little thing about the people he’s working with. “I can’t believe I didn’t even bloody ask you your field.”

Alyssa laughs. “It’s been a whirlwind.” 

She’s right. Fitz arrived here before lunch, and it’s since gone dark outside. They’ve spent the hours breaking down the memo, creating a rough list of action steps, parsing out who would be the point person on each task. Stark was right. Fitz really is glad Alyssa was on the project with him – he’d be lost without her, even on these preliminary steps. 

She drops the binder containing the memo on her desk and turned to lean against it, her bottom pushing against its writing surface, inches from where Fitz’s hand had been fiddling with a pen. He drops the pen and pushes his chair back from the desk, pretending it's only to look at her while she talked. “I have three PhDs in computational biology.” 

Fitz’s eyebrows shoot up. “Three? In what kind of biology?”

Alyssa laughs, like she’s accustomed to confusion on this subject. It’s light and airy, easy to listen to. Like she’s had a relatively calm life. 

Listening to Alyssa laugh feels a little like relief. “Um…computational biology. And really, three isn’t as many as it sounds. The base education is the same, but it’s such a quickly developing field that the research base is expanding at an astonishing rate, and I had so many divergent interests that my little projects just sort of got away from me.”

“Into full-blown Ph.D. theses. And, how old are you?”

“Twenty-six.” Alyssa shrugs. “But I only had doctorate when I started at the Academy. That was in genomics. The tech at the Academy allowed me to finish the one on biomodeling in short order, and I actually only defended my pharmacology PhD fourteen months ago. So, really, I’m green.” 

Fitz blinks and stares, feeling an odd mix of awe and inadequacy that literally no other person has managed to inflict on him before. He isn’t sure whether it’s pleasant, but he definitely admires this woman more than he’s intimidated by her. “Right. Well. So the pharmacology will be the main focus of your expertise here, then?” 

“Yes, I imagine so.”

Fitz shakes his head. “Not sure how I feel about developing ability-specific toxins to weaponized against Inhumans.”

Alyssa crinkles her brow. “I know. Though, I have to confess, it’s hard for me to make any judgments when all I’ve heard about these Inhumans comes from a Stark Labs memo and you.” She looks up quickly. “No offense.” 

“Welcome to Level 6,” Fitz answers, and Alyssa rewards him with another soft laugh. God, it feels like a breath of fresh air. He smiles, for the first time in more days than he can remember. “No offense taken, by the way. Believe me, my introduction to the Inhumans was a bit of a baptism by fire.”

Now it’s Alyssa’s turn to raise her eyebrows.

“It’s a long story. Involving a good friend. Still a bit traumatic, to be honest.” When was the last time he offered this much personal information to a total stranger? When was the last time he met someone totally new that he could also totally trust? 

Too damn long. 

“Was this the friend Stark was talking about? Simmons?”

Fitz’s heart stutters. “Uh…Simmons…it’s…no, actually. She – the Inhuman – went through terrigenesis in a bit of an unorthodox manner. The discovery of her powers was tough on all of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Alyssa says, staring at her hands. “That’s rough, to lose someone like that.”

“Oh, no! We didn’t lose her. She’s alive and well. Daisy Johnson, currently tearing it up on various field missions. She’s a good egg.”

“Really?” Alyssa picks up the report again. “Because it sounds like the terrigenesis makes these people kind of terrifying. Uncontrollable.”

“No, no. That’s just…the project is to figure out how to subdue and contain them with formulas uniquely tailored to their abilities, right? So of course it’s going to highlight the damage they could do. But Daisy, she wouldn’t – “  
Fitz’s enthusiastic introduction of Daisy is interrupted by a deep, rumbling growl from his stomach. It’s only then that he notices the profound ache that’s settled there, and marvels at the fact that he didn’t notice it from its very beginnings. 

“Dinnertime? Should we…pick this up tomorrow?” The way Alyssa’s eyes search his is strange, like the words have ten times the meaning that they should. 

“Oh. Right. Yes. I s’pose I should –“ 

“Or,” she rushes to interrupt him. “I could recommend a place? For dinner? Where we could eat? Um…together?”

Fitz stares at her, his mouth hanging open as he remembers a very similar sentence that he stumbled through, directed toward someone who was as caught off-guard as he feels now. “Dinner,” he replies. “Together.” He’s surprised when his tone sounds open, questioning, instead of unpleasantly confused. 

His stomach grumbles again, and Fitz stares down, mortified, while Alyssa lets out another brilliant laugh. “Guess that answers that. Come on, Leo.” She hops to her feet from her perch on the desk, grabs her bag with one hand, and snags his shirt sleeve with the other. “I’m going to introduce you to the best burger you’ve ever had.”

“I have to tell you,” Fitz says as he forces one last fry down, “if someone had told me the most incredible burger I would ever eat was to be found in Manhattan, I would have called them a dirty liar.” He stares at his plate, slightly ashamed and slightly in awe that he’s only managed to finish about two-thirds of this greasy culinary gift from the gods.

Meanwhile, Dr. Alyssa MacTaggert (triple doctor, Fitz reminds himself) has put away all of her burger and half her fries, her lipstick magically looking no worse for wear. She’s also two beers down, while he’s still working on his first. He lets his eyes scan her petite, curvy frame again, and wonders if there is some inverse correlation between the size of a woman and how many calories she can burn. By all accounts, this is a typical Friday night dinner for the tiny young doctor, and she seems perfectly at ease. 

Fitz is surprised that he feels the same way. He imagines the relatively small amount of alcohol distributing itself through his blood stream, and lets his back sag against the chair. “Alyssa, that was…incredible.” Fitz sighs happily and catches her looking at him through her eyelashes. In the dim light, it’s hard to tell if that’s a blush on her cheeks. 

“Gotta admit, Leo, I have never had a man say that to me in reaction to a hamburger before.”

“Well, they should. This was…” It was only after he’d gotten out one and a half embarrassing sentences that he realized her meaning. His eyes fly from his dinner plate to her. There’s that smirk again, and hell if she isn’t making him feel all twisted up inside. “Ah. Got it,” he says. “Sorry.” 

“Oh, don’t be silly. Nice to have you around for a change. Seems like you’re more interested in my PhDs than my…other assets. Most men are so single-minded. It’s a pleasure having you as a partner. Or it will be. I can tell.” 

However much innuendo she’d infused in her sentence before, Alyssa’s eyes are genuine now. Fitz dips his head in a nod, smiling and letting himself relax. His wristwatch flashes a blue alarm, telling him it was nearing ten o’clock and he should be headed to bed. 

“Christ,” he mutters. “We’ve been here three hours?” 

Alyssa raises her beer to clink against his. “Time flies, I guess.” 

“Yeah,” Fitz says, fiddling with his ear. “Applies to our lab time, too, though. I promised to be back to my team by the day after tomorrow. 

We only have tomorrow to get a good head start, so we should…”

Something in her expression shifts, the muscles in her face tensing up just as the way she holds her shoulders does. “If that’s the case, yeah. You’re right. Sounded like you had someone to get back to, anyway….” She motions for the waiter to bring the bill. 

Within seconds, he does, and her hand shot out to grasp the thin slip of paper, but Fitz is waiting. His hand covers hers almost instantly. 

Alyssa’s eyes fly to his, and between the brush of skin and the way her eyes brew with storms, sparkling in the dim light of a very non-fancy place where beers sweat on the table, it almost feels like…

Fitz pushes the words out before he can think about it anymore. “I’ve got the bill. The least I could do. I will owe you forever for giving me the best burger of my life.”

Alyssa laughs. “Fair enough.” 

Fitz insists on paying for the cab, too, and when she moves to step out at Stark Tower, where her apartment is, Fitz reaches for her hand, catching her on the tips of her fingers. She turns her head, waiting for his words. He doesn’t waste any time. 

“About what you said – about me having to get back. It’s not someone. It’s a project I’m working on. Time sensitive.”

A smile twitches at the corners of Alyssa’s mouth, still perfectly painted despite the incredible amount of food she just ate (how does she do that?) “Yeah?” she asks, her voice gone breathy, her eyes dancing in the millions of lights that poke through the Manhattan night. 

“Yeah,” he says firmly, keeping his gaze steady. “See you tomorrow. Bright and early.” 

“Goodnight, Leo,” she says, dipping her chin down and letting her smile bloom just a bit more so that it reaches her cheeks. 

Then, she closes the door, and Fitz finds himself gazing out the window as the cab takes him to his hotel. 

He’s never looked forward to “bright and early” so much before.


	3. A Neighbor's Blessed Burden Within Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'll be back though, right?" Alyssa's voice has gone breathy and Fitz would be telling mad lies if he said he didn't like the sound of it.
> 
> "Not sure," he says, surprised at the soothing tone his words have taken on. "Need to see the results first."
> 
> "Oh, geez," Alyssa says, suddenly staring at her coffee cup. "If I had known last night -"
> 
> "- I didn't either," Fitz blurts.
> 
> "Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me?" she says, smiling at him through lowered lashes. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Americans that talk too much aren't as annoying as Fitz thought they might be. Especially when they wear those heels.

Chapter 3 – A Neighbor’s Blessed Burden Within Reason

“Oh, dear God!” Alyssa splutters before slamming the coffee mug down on the table. “That is – literally the worst thing I have ever drunk in my life. Ever.”

“You talking about my tea? What about focusing on your own disgusting drink?”

“Coffee,” Dr. MacTaggert says as she locates the cup that’s actually hers, where she left it 30 seconds ago at her own desk, “is the nectar of the gods. And disgusting herbal water or not, no drink needs that much sugar.”

“My tea is everything tea should be. I’ve been perfecting it for twenty years.”

“Then maybe your tastebuds have gotten too used to the absurd amount of sugar you put in there. Seriously, Leo, I can crunch it between my teeth. It’s, like, coating my tongue.” She pushes her tongue out of her mouth, scraping it against her teeth, then swirls it around inside her mouth. 

Fitz retrieves his mug from where she set it down, wiping off the drips that she caused with his sleeve, motioning toward hers. “Can’t be any worse than that burnt-bitter black water you adore so much.”

She stares him down for several seconds, then bursts out laughing. “Guess I know you won’t be trying to steal it, then.”

Fitz smiles at her and heads back to his computer. “It would help if all these bloody mugs weren’t exactly the same, I’ll give you that.”

They’ve been at work since 7 AM, at Fitz’s insistence, and Alyssa has been poking fun at him all morning over it. But for the last half hour, she’s gone quiet, tapping madly at her keyboard, bringing up charts and running simulations at lightning speed. Fitz has been at work making prototypes for the new arrow tips that can only be for Clint Barton’s arsenal. This knowledge running through his head over and over again has put a burst of energy into his motions, and his hands are working faster than they have in a very long time.

He’s holding a delicate canister that ends in an impressively sharp needle, if he does say so himself, when a deafening screech comes from across the lab, followed by the smack of Alyssa’s palms on her desk. The canister clatters to the ground, and Fitz lets loose a stream of curses. He spins around to fling them at the woman – after all, the canister will be all cocked up from the drop and he’ll have to start all over again – but the look on her face is lit with joy.

“Oh!” she cries. “Did I startle you? I’m so sorry it’s just that – oh, Leo! You are not going to believe this!” Her grin is wide and her legs do a little seated dance, making her whole body wiggle in her chair.

He’s still miffed as hell, but before he can launch into a lecture about lab safety and not screeching like a banshee while a man is holding delicate machinery in his fingers, he’s already headed over to her. She’s like a damn puppy, infuriating and adorable at the same time.

“Right, then,” he says, standing over her shoulder and crossing his arms. “What’s exciting enough to warrant denting up Hawkeye’s arrowheads before he’s even got to test them?”

“I’ve found it,” she rushes to explain, “the common denominator between the Inhuman variants. The ones we’ve found, anyway, which by now are well over a hundred. It’s not perfect, but it’s a good start.”

“Over a hundred?” Fitz interrupts. “Coulson only knows of a dozen or so, and…”

“Level 6, remember? Classified to this facility. Anyway,” she rushes, “I know that last night we thought we might have to build a mechanism into the weaponry to dictate a specialized formula to target the specific abilities of the Inhuman threat we were dealing with. But what if we could come up with one toxin, one that could attack the ability at a very base level? The specific gene that was present even before they underwent Terrigenesis?”

“Theoretically, that would keep the Avengers safest,” Fitz agrees. “It would be a guarantee that the Inhuman’s ability couldn’t harm them. But…what would that mean for the Inhuman’s ability? Would it take it away permanently?”

Dr. MacTaggert twists her lips to the side. “It could,” she starts, “but more likely it would just numb it for a bit, until we could get a better understanding of what we were dealing with.”

Fitz sighs. “I don’t like the possibility that we could take away someone’s powers forever, on accident.”

“True,” Alyssa says, “But I’ve also seen some of the devastation these abilities can cause, especially when you consider –“

“ – that they’re terrified when they undergo terrigenesis, yes, because of the fish oil.”

“Hey,” Alyssa says, her eyebrows scrunching up. “Don’t interrupt me. “I was about to say that because of the fish oil, because of how it’s randomly spread, we’re going to have a much greater chance of seeing these Inhumans emerging in high population centers.”

“Sorry,” Fitz says, twisting at his earlobe and then dropping his hand, wondering if he looks as stupid as he feels. “I’m used to being able to…it’s just…my old partner and I sort had a habit of finishing each other’s sentences. Sometimes I forget how much it annoys others.” He should remember. Bobbi reminds him of that all the time, but something about Alyssa and her excitement and the intensity of her investigation into the topic at hand made him forget. He just got carried away, that’s all.

“So you basically shared a brain?”

“That’s, ah – what some people said. Doesn’t matter. I’m working with you now, and I am. Sorry.”

She forgives him with a gentle smile. “Two heads are better than one, if you ask me. Let me work up a formula and a suspension for what I’m thinking of, and then you and I will hook up after lunch, okay?”

Fitz dips his head into a nod and mutters a “sure,” before heading back to his station. Given his jumbled work surface, it really doesn’t make sense that he’s smiling this much.

“Yes, the formula’s brilliant, I’m sure, but I’m telling you, the suspension just won’t work out. You’re a brilliant biologist, but you simply couldn’t have taken into account the trajectory necessary for the cartridges to take. The effects of inertia alone make what you’ve come up with here useless.”

“Okay, Leo, well what do you suggest?”

He paces then, pushing his fingers back through his curls. “I don’t know. I just know that it’s possible, I swear. The dendrotoxin was so close to the molecular makeup of what you’ve got here, and Simmons came up with something that worked nearly flawlessly.”

 

“Simmons. Right. Your old partner. You said she still works there, right?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, she just returned from –“

“She’s still working there, though, right?”

Fitz grunts and nods, trying not to make eye contact. Part of him wishes Jemma had been the one who left, so that thinking of her still working in their lab, the one he so painstakingly preserved according to her specifications, wouldn’t hurt so badly.  
“Well, let’s just call her up then. I’m sure she’d be glad to look at these mock-ups and compare her files –“

Fitz waves his hand in her face. “We can’t just call them. It’s S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Alyssa leans back, wrinkling her face up at him. “Yeah, and this is 2015, a giant green monster just saved the world, and one of our top scientists is dating a god. Literally. Anything is possible.”

“I just…you cant…I’ll send an email,” Fitz mutters, fiddling with his ear and squeezing in eyes shut that just makes him look sad. Broken, maybe. “We can wait til tomorrow.” Fitz doesn’t tell her that being away an extra day or so is exactly what he wants.

“I thought you had to be back tomorrow,” she says.

“I don’t know, I haven’t heard from them, and I could use an extra day here anyway…”

“You want to quit at four o’clock? Not even our tech interns are that lazy,” she says as she examines the pained look on his face. Alyssa sighs and turns back to her computer. “Oh, take a breather. Go build a helicopter or something while you wait. I’ll get someone on the line. We’ll get done a lot quicker if I can just show a real human being the gun.”

“Okay, well, good luck getting a call through to the Zephyr’s lab. I’m pretty sure our hacker Daisy couldn’t even find her own firewalls all muddled up in that system, let alone…”

“Hack them?” Alyssa hums and raises an eyebrow high while letting her fingers fly over the keyboard. “I definitely took advantage of a couple of the Specialist workshops they offered, and hacking actually turned into a hobby of mine for a little while, when…” Five seconds later, the telltale “connect” chime sounds from the video chat program. The live feed is up within seconds. A girl with a mousy brown bob in a slouchy tee and ill-fitting hoodie slides in front of the screen.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. Airship Zephyr One mobile lab, please identify yourself.” Her prim British accent makes Alyssa feel like she’s being put on the spot by a stern professor.

Alyssa grins anyway, calling back over her shoulder. “Hey, Leo! Pretty sure you underestimated Daisy. Or me. Or both. I’m in!” When she spins around in her desk chair, though, Fitz is nowhere to be seen.

On the other side of the screen, the girl’s eyes narrow. “Pardon?”

“Oh! Sorry.” Alyssa sits up straight, forgetting her gloating for the moment. “This is Doctor Alyssa MacTaggert from Stark labs. My partner told me that someone over there could help. I’m looking for a Doctor Simmons.”

“And your partner is?” The British woman’s eyebrows are tugged in now, like she already knows the answer and is desperate to hear it at the same time.

“Right. Leo. Uh…Fitz. Leo Fitz. We’re trying to develop a new variant on some of his weapons developments, and…”

“Yes, I know Dr. Fitz. He never goes by Leo.” The woman a suspicious squint of her eyes and tilt of her head.

“Guess he’s trying something new,” Alyssa says offhandedly. “Anyway, he says that you’ve solved exactly the problem I’m trying to tackle now – well, not exactly, but close enough. The molecular structures are similar, according to him, but now –“

“Yes, I’m sorry, but could you just put him on? We’ve had some security issues of late, I’m sure you understand.”

Alyssa doesn’t, really, but Miss Prim and Proper must be trying to follow protocol. She sighs. “Yeah. He knew I was trying to hack in to your lab to talk to you, and as soon as I connected, he left. Weird.”

“Yes, strange. Have him call me back, then?” The woman’s voice went breathy and high, her words rushed.

“Oh! I’ve got it. I’ll just link you to his intake verification from Stark, and then we’ll be right as rain. I’d really like to get this prototype off the ground tonight, I’m sure you understand. He says he wanted to be back as soon as he could, and I don’t know when we’ll be able to work together again, so…”

Hearing this, the British Doctor’s face relaxes the tiniest bit. “Why don’t you tell me your problem, and I’ll see if I have anything to help solve it.”

***

Fitz knows it’s beyond ridiculous, but he just can’t stay in the room while his new partner calls his other one. There’s workout gear in his room, perfectly sized, and before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s lacing into running shoes. It’s not fair, he thinks as he finally finds the gym in this maze of rooms that hold earth’s mightiest heroes, that he can’t ever escape Simmons.

Even so, as he hops on one of the machines and starts the belt at a quick pace, he smiles to himself that he thought of her as “Simmons” instead of “Jemma.” The way she looked on the other side of that screen, though – so achingly familiar, like if he could erase the last seven months it would be just another normal day.

Except, if that were the case, he would never have gone to another lab. And maybe he would have stood a chance with Jemma.

He shakes his head against the thought. If she’d only agreed to date Fitz because she knew she’d be trapped in a lab with him for the foreseeable future, that’d be no good basis for a romance, anyway. He turns up the speed and pounds the treadmill harder, trying to block out the thought that that’s the only way Jemma would ever want to be with him, anyway. If there was no other option. As soon as she met another guy – literally the only guy on an otherwise empty planet – she’d fallen for him.

He’s never stood a chance with her anyway. He sees that now.

He’s running so hard that he barely notices someone else coming into the gym at the end of his second mile. A woman with a sharp chin, huge eyes, high cheekbones, hair that falls in long unruly waves over her shoulders despite being pulled into a high ponytail. She’s here to run, too, he can tell by her trainers. But she stops and stares at Fitz, tilting her head to the side, squinting a bit, then relaxing into a frown. It’s mesmerizing, the way she looks like she can see far more than she should be able to. He stops the treadmill, only realizing when the burning pain floods his chest how hard he’d been going.

When the whirring of the belt stops, she takes one step toward him, gives him a soft smile. “You’re in pain,” she says in a thick Slavic accent.

“Yes,” Fitz stutters out, suddenly feeling incredibly safe in her presence.

“It’s heavy,” she says slowly, emphatically. “But there is hope somewhere underneath.”

Fitz blinks slowly, stares at his feet.

“Running helps,” she says thickly, then walks to her own treadmill and starts to sprint.

He returns to his room for a shower, shaking his head at the strange encounter, but feeling almost reset. There’s a note, in handwriting so messy he can barely make it out, taped to the front of his door. “Talked to Simmons. She helped. Back in the lab ASAP! I’m excited!”

He can practically hear the bubbly lilt of MacTaggert’s voice in the message, and he smiles despite himself

He’s back in the lab within half an hour, holding sandwiches.

“Leo!” she trills. “You brought dinner!”

He shrugs. “It was my turn. Thought I’d show you that not everything I like is disgusting. Prosciutto and mozzarella. My favorite.”

The sandwich shop didn’t have any pesto aioli, but maybe that was for the best.

 

***

The next morning, Fitz finds Alyssa buzzing around the lab, bright and early.

“There’s good news and bad news,” she says by way of greeting. 

“Good morning to you, too,” he grumbles, taking in his second sip of tea for the morning.

“Oh, don't be such a grump." She smiles. 

Was he grumpy? This was just morning-Fitz. Everyone knew that it takes him an hour or so to start speaking like a human in the lab. Well, 'everyone' being Bobbi and Jemma. "Sorry," he grumbles.

She keeps on without missing a beat. "Good news is, I’ve figured out how to suspend a genetic simulation of the Inhuman base DNA into this forensics gel, so we can test the weapons.”

Now he's paying attention. “That’s bloody amazing! How’d you do it so fast?”

Alyssa taps her temple with an index finger. “I don’t like to brag, but…” she leans a bit toward him, wafting her perfume his way, and lowers her voice to a teasing whisper. “I’m sort of a genius.”

Fitz laughs at that. “Okay, I’ll prep the weapons. Erm…what’s the bad news?”

“Bad news is that I may have blown up a couple of your prototype canisters while I was trying to balance the toxin?”

Fitz winces. “At least I have the plans saved. Will take at least another day to test their safety, even for the lab techs to try them out, though.”

“Guess you’ll be here for another twenty-four! I’ll get to work on dinner plans.”

“Oh,” Fitz says, blinking into his tea. “Dinner.”

“Yeah,” she says, pulling her safety goggles down and settling them into place over her eyes. “After all, it’s my turn.”

She looks even more adorable in safety goggles than she did in her glasses.

****

“I’m just saying that you could have told me you were leaving, at least.” 

This is like torture, having to look at Jemma even when she wasn't in the same state as he is. Bobbi had called in to cross-check a ballistic forensics report that she and Mack had some questions on, and Jemma had edged her way in after Bobbi had finished speaking with him. 

“Fitz, you know I’ve been distracted, and –“

“I don’t belong to you, Jemma.” He’s been waiting to say it for days now. It doesn’t matter that it’s not the most logical response to this exact statement from her.

“I – what –“ Jemma’s face goes red and her eyes flash angry, then embarrassed, then “Of course not, Leo. But this is your project, and you – “

“Project’s moving along. You can spare me for a bit. And really, it’s your project. Your request to go on a completely mad suicide mission to rescue your boyfriend from an unknown alien planet. So maybe you can take point on it from here.”

“A mission you willingly undertook for half of last year, to get me back!”

“Because I loved you.” He’s always imagined yelling this, but instead it comes out as a rough growl, his forehead pressed to his palms.

Jemma’s mouth hangs open, shuts again, opens once more. Like a fish out of water. Why is he always the one who has to fill these silences?

“Please, don’t act like that’s such a shocking revelation,” he sighs. “You knew. Everyone knew. If you were anyone else, I would have given up looking for a way to open that portal months before.” He took a deep breath. “But that’s water under the bridge. You’re back, well and healthy, and you’ll have a wonderful life and long career ahead of you. I can’t regret that.”

“If you only did it because you – well, then…why are you helping me bring Will home?”

The way she phrases that just twists the knife a little more. Will. Home. Didn’t matter. He was used to it by now.

“Because you asked me to, and you’re right – I’m probably the only one who can do it.” He let out a short laugh. The irony in this whole situation is too much, and yet here he is, living it. “And I’m a decent human. But after this, I can’t help you. Not anymore.” It’s slowly killing me.

“I need you. The lab…it’s not the same without you. You said we could fix anything together. Can’t we fix us, too?”

Fitz sighed. “Well, I’m really starting to think I was wrong. Or maybe I was right then. We’re not the same, anymore.” He looked into her eyes, clearly tear-filled even through the screen. “I’ll be back soon. I promised you we’d get him back, and I’ll see that promise through.”

"And then?" Her lips twist like she’s about to cry again, that vein in her forehead standing out like it always does when she’s on the edge of letting loose with a sob. It used to break Fitz’s heart into pieces, seeing this, but today, it’s all he can do not to roll his eyes. To think of all the times he’s given in to that feeling, of wanting to protect her, wanting to make her happy…has she ever felt even close to the same way?

Fitz simply shrugs. Without another word, he ends the call. Today, he just doesn’t feel up for another goodbye.

***  
Alyssa takes him out for Indian, this time, and Fitz moans into his first bite of curry. He hasn't had a good one since that time they had to make a dead drop in London, and he'd bribed Hunter to snag some takeway on his way back to the Zephyr. Eating it like a civilized person, with good wine and better company, improved a good curry a million times over.

Doctor MacTaggert is hard for Fitz to wrap his head around. He can tell her brain moves a mile a minute, from the way she rapidly switches between seemingly mundane and almost incomprehensibly detailed and scientific at lightning-fast speed. He feels like he could sit opposite her, listening to her talk, for an hour, and not be sorry that she didn't let him get a word in edgewise. In a way, it's relaxing - it gives him the chance to relax into a conversation, and her absolute passion for American reality shows and their sociological implications keeps the mood light. 

Plus, she has really great taste in restaurants. 

When the cab drops her at Stark tower, Fitz desperately wants to say something to her, something to let her know how much he appreciates her, how good these three days have been for him. But he can't think of a single word that would fit. 

He's grateful that the Manhattan shadows hide the blush he's sure creeps onto his cheeks when she hugs him goodnight. 

****

The next morning, Fitz leaves the ballistics techs with several prototypes with detailed instructions for testing them and recording their results. May had left him strict instructions that wheels would be up at 8:00 AM, and not a moment later. At least he had her to blame for dragging the techs out of bed so early. 

It's 7:45 when he gathers his bags from his room and shuts the door behind him. He'll have to take a look at the test results and conference with Tony before he knows whether they'll need him back. For the first time since he got here, he sort of hopes they will. 

He pulls the door shut and turns toward the hallway, only to be met face-to-face with Alyssa, holding a tall mug of coffee and looking slightly confused. "Packed already?" she asks, with a slight pout to her lips, which are painted a warm sienna brown today. They really are like a work of art. "Are you leaving straight from the lab?"

Fitz drags his eyes back to hers, and says, "Erm...actually, I've already been. Wheels are up in fifteen, so I've got to get to the hangar."

She sucks in a breath, and it's so audible there's no hiding it. Fitz's lips twitch up in a smile. 

"You'll be back though, right?" Alyssa's voice has gone breathy and Fitz would be telling mad lies if he said he didn't like the sound of it. 

"Not sure," he says, surprised at the soothing tone his words have taken on. "Need to see the results first."

"Oh, geez," Alyssa says, suddenly staring at her coffee cup. "If I had known last night -"

"- I didn't either," Fitz blurts.

"Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me?" she says, smiling at him through lowered lashes. "If I had known last night," she begins again, "I would have done this."

Then, she pushes up on her tiptoes, twists her fingers into the front of his shirt, and kisses him full on the mouth. He's taken aback enough that he sucks in a breath through his nose, but doesn't break contact. And damn, it feels good. After a second, he presses back in, and he feels her smile against his mouth. Then she pulls away, and if he didn't have the faint taste of strong black coffee lingering on his lips, he might have sworn it never happened. 

"I don't know what's going on between you and that Dr. Simmons," she murmurs, "but take it from me. You're interesting, and you're cute, and from what I can tell, you're a really good man. You deserve the world, Leo."

With that, her heels are click-clacking back down the hallway, toward the lab. "Don't be a stranger!" she calls over his shoulder. 

It takes Fitz a full ten seconds to force a clear thought into his head, and another five to make his legs move. 

He can't stop smiling the whole way to the hangar.


	4. Becomes a Burden Borne of All and One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz isn't as adept with his computer as he thinks he is, but if it ends in an accidental call to Dr. MacTaggert, can he really complain?
> 
> OR 
> 
> Fitz makes an entirely unexpected, and not entirely unwelcome, date for brunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news and bad news for the SS FitzSimmons -   
> Bad news, Jemma's stunning insensitivity in this week's episode (3x06) and the serious lack of screentime between our two science babies left me frustrated and bereft.   
> Good news, it leaves lots of blank space for fic fillers. Wheeee!
> 
> **
> 
> As always, I love your feedback and comments, and wholeheartedly welcome plot suggestions for future chapters as this tumultuous season unfolds. Batten down the hatches, loves. It's gonna be quite the serious storm, I can tell.

Chapter 4  - Becomes a Burden Borne of All and One

Fitz isn’t stupid enough to lie to Simmons. He told her he’d run dozens of simulations on the monolith, and that’s what exactly what he's done.

He's just glad she only insisted on touching him for a few seconds. Every moment she was so close to him sent fire burning through his veins. It was a strange, heady cocktail of desire and resentment and sadness and hopelessness and a tiny, almost insignificant spark of hope. When she'd crossed the lab, squeezed his hand, told him that when he met Will, he'd understand? He thought his molecules might spontaneously separate and leave him in a puddle on the lab floor. 

Fitz wished the hope that had plagued him for years would cooperate and leave him alone. It had tortured him long enough.

If he's being honest, part of him has been expecting one of his formulas to work, for the monolith to warble back to life, and for Will Daniels to step right into the Playground. It would be a confirmation from the universe, that Jemma really was meant to be with Will. And then, at least, the decision would be made and all this would be over.

A chapter would close in his life – it would have to, he couldn’t watch Jemma be in love with another man day in and day out. But at least it would be done. No more of this living in suspense, of carrying the small daydream that she might actually choose him over Will.

Today had been especially tough on Fitz, because Jemma had been especially jumpy. She hovered, she used that sweet, soft voice of hers that she knew made him melt, and she didn’t hide her upset when he told her that not a single portal simulation had been successful.

Fitz thinks he might actually die in this lab. 

 

/

  
“She said _what_ , mate?” Hunter had been hovering around him like a sad puppy all day, and he’d always been good for a little self-esteem pep talk, especially in the wake Simmons seemed uniquely capable of causing.

She said “I know this isn’t easy for you,” Fitz said, swallowing down the last of his pint. Enough to be appropriate for 5 o’clock weekday drinking, and make him a little buzzy without losing any significant degree of his faculties.

“For you. _For you_. And that’s s’posed to mean what, exactly? That this is a walk in the fucking park for her?”

“Well, it is a bit, isn’t it?” Fitz stifled a small burp behind a closed fist. “She’s not engineering a way to bring back the space lover of someone who will never love her back. Unrequited love is a bitch.” He sat back in his chair, smug that he’d said ‘unrequited.’ It almost made up for the actual content of the sentence. 

“It was like she was waiting for me,” Fitz said. “Waiting for me to be done with my work, for the exact moment she could corner me. ‘Course I couldn’t get any other work done after that.”

Fitz didn’t tell Hunter that he’d spent the next several hours scouring worldwide records for any reference of Will Daniels. He couldn’t find a single suspect thing, besides that the bloke was nearly 50 years old now. He was decent-looking enough, but more importantly, he was an astrophysicist.

Jemma had always loved the stars, ever since she was a kid and her dad had introduced her to them. Fitz had heard the story so many times, from Jemma, her dad, and her mum. It was woven into the fabric of who Jemma was, and it was fitting that she’d fall for a man like Will so hard and fast.

“Y’know what?” Fitz said, suddenly feeling clear-headed. “I’m going to go back t’the lab right now. Nice and quiet. No techs. No Simmons.”

“How d’you feel about that, mate?” Hunter seemed to have achieved some level of clarity, too.

“No Simmons?” Fitz took one last pull from his pint and set it solidly down on the table. “Not as bad as I thought I would. Good talk, Hunter.” He clapped the man on the back and strode out, not deaf to Hunter’s chuckling as he did.

 

/

 

“Bloody techs can’t even file their reports in the right places,” Fitz muttered. “And then what? My genius at forging IDs would go completely forgotten. Rubbish.”

Fitz pulled up the file for Katelin Freya – the first time he’d used the exact spelling of the girl he’d dated off and on back at Sci-Ops on an ID – and sloppily typed in the command for filing it. The computer went to work, pulling up various folders and slotting the file in, and Fitz leaned back again and sighed.

He scans the lab while he waits for the files to transfer. He won’t miss it here. He knows leaving is inevitable, whether for just a bit or forever. He needs distance – from Jemma, from the memories. She needs it too, he reckons.

Then, the sound of a video call connecting jerks him back to attention. Before he can hit the buttons to disconnect whatever call he’s accidentally made, a screen pops up showing the unmistakable background of Stark labs. The sun is setting through the huge windows, and when Alyssa MacTaggert rolls her chair in front of the camera, the golden light it casts on her skin is stunning.

"Leo," she purrs - dear god, this woman _purred_ \- "did you drunk-dial me?"

Fitz scrubs his face with his palm, half out of weariness and half to hide the smile that is quickly overtaking his expression. "Not as such, considering I'm not drunk. More like 'a little distracted and slightly buzzed' dialing." 

Alyssa leaned forward like she was about to tell the camera her deepest, darkest secret. She lowered her voice, and said with a quirked eyebrow and half a smirk, "I'll take it."

God, the confidence of this woman. It’s like nothing Fitz has ever seen.  Like she knows that she is utterly captivating, like she is serving her presence to him on a silver platter and simultaneously begging him and daring him to take it. 

"What're you even doing in the lab this late, Dr. MacTaggert? Are you bored?" 

It's only a bit past six at the end of what he’s sure has been a long week, but Alyssa's eyes don't betray even a hint of tiredness. Fitz's eyes track down to her lips, perfectly painted. Still. He swallows, forcing his eyes away from the hint of cleavage that teases at the bottom of the screen. 

Alyssa shrugs, then leans back in her chair. "Bored," she says simply, with those same daring eyes boring a hole in the wall Fitz has spent the last six months building around the parts of himself that could feel pain, that bent and flexed when touched by affection. "I could ask the same of you."

Fitz gives her half a smirk. "Just catching up on some...records."

"Sounds like busy work," Alyssa says. "You know, if you have that much time on your hands, you should come hang out with me.” Her invitation hits him heavy with the memories of the joy that leaked into his vision when she made him laugh, with the memory of the way she'd kissed him, like he is a dried-up dandelion and she is happy to make wishes on what was left of him as it blew away with the wind. 

“Ah,” Fitz says. “Only problem is that Stark doesn’t need me back there.”

“No,” Alyssa says, and he swears she pouts the slightest bit. “Not yet, anyway. But he does need me in D.C. Not far from you.”

“Oh, that’s – hold on,” Fitz says, sitting bolt upright. “How d’you know where we are? This is a top secret base.”

“Oh, I don’t know exactly,” she promises. “But I may have spoken to Tony,” Alyssa says with a playful smile. “I may have told him that if he had something for me to do anywhere in a fifty mile radius of you, Dr. Fitz, I wouldn’t object to reporting for duty.” She leans back in her chair, her smile turned smug.

Fitz doesn’t know what he’s feeling at the moment – some mix of confusion and apprehension and excitement that makes his head spin. “So…I mean…what do…erm…what’s the assignment, then?”

“Top Secret,” she says. “Starts on Monday, but I’m arriving tomorrow. I imagine I’ll be pretty bored. Don’t know what I’ll do with myself.”

Fitz’s mouth hangs open for a second, before he realizes that she’s waiting for him to suggest something. “Erm…well…no missions planned as of yet for the weekend – ah, shite, that’s probably top secret too…” He buries his face in his hands. Apparently, two solid years of aspiring to flirt with someone as opposed to actually flirting with or dating someone, plus a healthy dose of hypoxic brain damage, have atrophied his social skills considerably.

It’s a damn miracle that Alyssa doesn’t seem to mind. Not yet, anyway.

A small smile quirks up on Fitz’s mouth when he realizes that, in some small part of his mind, he imagined a future for himself. That’s progress, and she’s the one who pushed him there.

“Listen,” Alyssa laughs. “Meet me for brunch. I know a place, it’s one of the best kept secrets in the City.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know what to do with yourself,” Fitz says, trying to make sure his tone is teasing instead of accusing. He doesn’t know how well he succeeds.

“Well, I hate eating out alone,” she says. “It’s a flaw, I know, but…” she shrugs. “Guess I’m lucky you can make it in, huh?”

Yeah. She was the lucky one.

Fitz decides to show her that he can do his own stealthy discovery work. “Please hold, Doctor.” He pulls up a couple of screens and has quickly hacked into Stark’s database of employee contacts. He taps her number into his phone and sends her a note.

**Fitz: Can’t wait. I’m sure it’ll be delicious.**

He hears her giggle through the video chat window, and quickly closes the ones covering up the feed. She’s grinning from ear to ear, looking down at her lap. Fitz’s phone buzzes.

**Alyssa: I’m sure it will be.**

A furious blush works up into Fitz’s cheeks as his brain computes the innuendos, because he’s sure that’s at least part of what she meant. There was the confidence again. He’d have to learn to get a handle on that.

**Fitz: Address, please. Don’t want to miss a moment.**

Within seconds, the location of Alyssa’s secret brunch place is on Fitz’s phone, too.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then? Eleven. If we get there too late, the quality of the pancakes will start a rapid decline. I tried once. Wasn’t pretty.”

 

“Heaven forbid we don’t get optimal quality pancakes. Seriously. Pancakes are exceedingly important to me.”

Alyssa chuckles. “I learn more about you every time we talk, Leo. It’s a pleasure.”

“Tomorrow, then.” Fitz doesn’t know how to sign off here, but he does know that he doesn’t want to miss his alarm for anything.

“Tomorrow,” she smiles, and then ends the call on her side.

Three hours later, as Fitz is still trying to calm his brain enough to fall asleep, his phone buzzes once more.   


**Alyssa: Goodnight, Leo.**

As he replies, his heart speeds just enough for him to notice, and doesn’t slow for quite some time.


	5. And Nobody, Nobody Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You, Leo Fitz, are one of the sexiest men I’ve ever met.”  
> “Me?” Fitz manages. “I’ve got the body of a twelve-year-old.”  
> Alyssa holds her index finger up to his lips. “Do. Not. Interrupt,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting down to his mouth. 
> 
> ~OR~
> 
> Our Dr. Fitzy has never been told how sexy he is before. Bless.

Fitz wakes early – something he never does, especially not on a weekend, but his thoughts are so wild and jumbled that he can’t lie in bed, not sleeping. He heads down to the gym and boxes one of the sand bags while imagining his invisible demons, shifting from one shape to another.

“Oi! Mate! Take a breather!” Hunter strides onto the mat, finishing off his hand wraps.

“I’m just about done anyway,” Fitz mumbles, giving the bag one more halfhearted jab-cross. He probably couldn’t take most other agents in a fist fight, but his shoulders have started to round out over more defined biceps, and he’s just vain enough to notice how they strain against his shirtsleeves where they never had before.

“Grab a pint with me tonight?” Hunter asks. “Found a new English pub. Hole in the wall but they should have a decent football game on and fish and chips that are actually palatable.”

Fitz smiles. Hunter really has been a good friend from the day Fitz met him, which is saying a lot, considering that Fitz was an unbearable arsehole at that point in his recovery. “Thanks, but I’m taking a day of leave. Heading to DC.”

“DC?” Hunter’s look of disdain is almost laughable.

“Consult,” Fitz tries to shrug it off, but he knows Hunter won’t settle for that sparse of an explanation.

“Wouldn’t be a consult with that delectable woman from Stark Labs, would it?”

“If you’re talking about Dr. MacTaggert, the brilliant computational biologist who –“

“Also happens to have more curves than a roller coaster, gorgeous shiny hair you just want to tug on, and near-constant bedroom eyes?”

Fitz coughs and starts to unwind his hand wraps. “Don’t know how you could tell she’s got the bedroom eyes. She wears glasses. Wait, how did you –“

“Bobbi showed me a picture of her.”

“How did Bobbi –“

“Jemma showed it to her.”

Fitz’s face goes numb. “That doesn’t make any sense. They only talked for a moment, what would Jemma care about –“

Hunter shrugs and starts a jab-cross warmup. “The hens are more jealous than they’d admit. Figured you’d be hanging around this weekend to help Jems get her space boyfriend back.”

“Thought about it,” Fitz concedes, trying to keep the word ‘jealous’ from ringing through his thoughts over and over. Jemma doesn’t care enough about him to be jealous, that much is clear. “But there’s nothing more I can do for her just now. Started another batch of simulations, because I don’t think she believed me about the first. They’ll run all weekend. At least the next thirty-six hours. She can watch them to her heart's content.”

“Few weeks ago, you wouldn’t leave her side.” Hunter steps into a hook, grunting.

“Well, it’s different now, isn’t it? Since she told me she's in love with someone else, every time I look at her, it’s just pain. And re-opening the monolith,” Fitz says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s just…like…obsessed.”

“Yeah,” Hunter agrees. “I remember the last time you were obsessed with something.”

“Getting Jemma off that planet, yeah. But it’s different.”

Hunter stops punching to look at Fitz. “I don’t think it is, Fitz. Why were you so bullheaded about getting Jemma back?”

“Because I love her.”

Hunter presses his lips into a thin line. “Yeah.”

And Jemma loves Will. Enough to obsess.

“I know you love her, Fitz. I’m so sorry.”

“I love her, yeah. But I don’t like her too much just now. Probably for the best.” He heads back to his room to shower, intending to repeat that mantra into his brain.

“Hey, Fitz?” Hunter calls when he pauses at the door. “Do yourself a favor and pack a change of clothes, mate. And I’ve a spare box of condoms in my bedside drawer. Help yourself.”  


Fitz shakes his head and scoffs. “Enough, mate. Thanks, but…it’s not like that.”

Fitz believed the words when he said them, but the whole time he’s in the shower, he wonders what it would be like to have Alyssa in there with him. He’s never dared to let himself think of Jemma that way, but Alyssa is different. Confident. Removed from the mess of emotions that is his life, in the best way possible.

He decides it wouldn’t hurt anything to stuff a clean shirt and pair of boxers in his work bag. And since he passes Hunter’s room on the way out of the Playground, he stops there before he leaves, too.

 

/

 

“So, is it working?” Dr. Alyssa MacTaggert, computational biology genius and exceptionally gorgeous human, is shoveling ricotta pancakes into her mouth with astonishing gusto. Fitz never expected to meet someone who loved eating as much as he does, but this woman could be a serious contender.

She’d kissed him when he’d arrived at the place for brunch. It really was a hole-in-the-wall sort of diner, with barely enough space inside for 20 people to sit at once. As soon as he had rounded the corner to the small street, her strong fingers hand tugged at his hand and pulled him flush to her. She’d pushed up on her tiptoes and pressed a long, soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, her eyes flashing into his when she pulled away a second later. “I wanted to do that first. So there wouldn’t be anything weird between us the rest of the day.” She had grinned like it had made perfect sense.

Fitz still isn’t sure that it did, but he’s not the slightest bit nervous anymore.

“Is what working?” he asks as he swallows his last bite of pancakes.

“My plan to win you over by way of your stomach.”

Fitz nearly chokes on his last bite of a pancake. His eyes water and he’s sure his cheeks are crimson. “So, ah…” he says when he recovers. “This is, then. This is ah…uh…”

“A date?” Alyssa’s eyes dance, and he’s annoyed and grateful at the same time that she stifles her laugh. “Oh, Leo. Let me tell you something. Promise you’ll listen, and believe me, okay?”

Fitz gives her a sidelong glance. “Okay.”

“This? Today? Is whatever you want it to be. If you want to hang out the rest of the day as friends, and only friends, well…I’d be disappointed, but that’s fine. If you want it to be more…Well, I think I’ve made it clear enough that I’d enjoy that very much, too.”

“Okay, I heard you, and I understand, but let me just – I mean – that’s great and all, but – erm – _why_?”

“Why do I want to spend the day with you, no matter the outcome?”

She’s so patient, putting up with his stammer and social awkwardness. Fitz just nods because it’s all he can do, honestly.

“Well, for starters, you’re the smartest man I’ve met in a very long time. Maybe since Tony. And I’m not just trying to sweet talk you, I swear. I find you fascinating. I like to listen to you talk, because you’re the first man who’s been able to hold my interest in quite a while. That’s the truth.”

“Okay.  But, erm…if that’s it, you know, you can call me any time. I’m happy to help with any of your projects if that’s what you –“

“You didn’t let me finish. I will keep insisting that you don’t interrupt,” Alyssa says, and oh dear God, did she just wink at him? “My mother taught me never to let a man interrupt me, no matter how unbearably sexy I think he is.”

Fitz chokes on his last sip of tea then, and as he holds the napkin to his mouth, Alyssa leans the slightest bit forward, creating an impressive display of cleavage that any man would kill to touch. And Fitz is a boob man. He feels his mouth watering at the sight, and isn’t sure if he wants to make it stop.

“You, Leo Fitz, are one of the sexiest men I’ve ever met.”

“Me?” Fitz manages. “I’ve got the body of a twelve-year-old.”

Alyssa holds her index finger up to his lips. “Do. Not. Interrupt,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting down to his mouth. “Your lips are delicious. Looking and tasting. You have a lovely slim, strong shape, and your ass is just perfectly grabbable. Everyone knows that Engineers’ hands are quite capable of doing incredible things to very complicated machinery, and I’d love to experience that first-hand. On top of that, your eyes make me dizzy every time I notice how piercingly blue they are. Last but not least, my world-traveling spy friends tell me that Scots tend to have big dicks, and I wouldn’t mind adding to their knowledge database.”

She sits back, leaving Fitz paralyzed and speechless. A grin sweeps over her face. :Why do you look so shocked? It's like you've never heard this before."

"I...ah.....s'just that I haven't."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Well, that is just a crime." She's dead serious. “I’ll just pay the bill, and then we can get out of here.” She scoots out of the booth and Fitz watches her hip-swinging walk to the cash register. Hunter was right. Curves for days.

She said this day together could be whatever he wants. And the thing is, he knows he could be famous friends with Dr. MacTaggert. He finds her endlessly fascinating, too, and her easy, cheerful manner makes her easy to be around. Makes it easy to forget the darkness and aching pain that seems to shroud his life at S.H.I.E.L.D. He could use a friend who is his intellectual equal, who understands the way his brain never stops, who finds his jokes funny without him having to explain them. He hasn’t had a  friendship like that in years. He misses it.

How he feels about this whole situation below the belt is clearly different, even though it does complicate matters.

Thank God they’ve got all day, because it’ll be at least a few more minutes until he can stand up without terrifying the diner’s other patrons.


	6. Let the Yoke Fall from Our Shoulders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody has ever planned a date for Fitz, let alone one this incredible. 
> 
> ~Or~
> 
> Hold on to your hats, the real smut is coming in the next chapter. Finally.

“So we’re just going to walk around all day, then?” Leo asks.

“Are you complaining?”

“No, quite the opposite, actually. The weather’s beautiful and I haven’t felt less stressed in a long time.”

It’s the truth, he realizes. The swirling gray skies and the hint of fog his breath makes in the air remind him of home, but the particular vibrance of the reds and yellows in the City’s foliage remind him that he’s somewhere entirely more exciting.

Alyssa has already taken him on a walk around the Mall, twice, and has just finished telling him about some of her research in Glasgow, Montana. He does the maths in his head and realizes that she was mucking about in creek water whilst he was in his second year at Sci-Ops. Clearly, she loved every second, as evidenced by the unusual passion with which she’s telling him about a long-range study on leaves.

“See, growth patterns vary in space and time as an organ develops, leading to shape and size changes. Quantifying spatiotemporal variations in organ growth throughout development is therefore crucial to understand how organ shape is controlled.”

“So this helped…. _people_.” Fitz says, his eyebrows tented up and a teasing smile playing at his lips.

“Indeed. Leaves are a good system in which to study the process of morphogenesis, given their relatively thin structure that can be approximated as a three-dimensional surface, visual accessibility, and the absence of cell migration. We’re connected to every type of life on this planet much more closely than most people realize. Proud to say my study was instrumental in some groundbreaking cancer research, as well as in understanding the unfolding of certain congenital organ defects.”

Fitz sneaks a glance at her face, drinking in the pure joy in her expression, the light in her eyes when she lets her brilliance and excitement flow together in this beautiful stream of chatter. It’s strange, when she does this, how she’s so like Jemma, before the pod and HYDRA undercover and the sunless planet and Will Daniels. If it weren’t for the American accent, and how much shorter and curvier she is, and how she’s so very forthright with all her deepest thoughts, he might even forget and think that Alyssa  was Jemma.

But he does have those things to ground him to this moment. The Jemma he grew up with, the Jemma who became his best friend, is so fundamentally changed that she’s basically unrecognizable anyway. People change. It’s not bad, it’s the natural course of the universe, Fitz tells himself. ‘His Jemma’ is a construct of his mind, not really gone because she never really was. Never wanted to be his.

Alyssa, on the other hand, does want to be his, in a way. She was brave enough to tell him as much, and she’s cheerful and happy and Jesus, so very intelligent that he has to actually concentrate to follow what she’s saying.  He could listen to her all day. And, in fact, he has, he realizes, as he notices the underside of the lowest clouds on the horizon tinged with pink.

“Can’t believe it’s coming on evening already. I should probably –“

“Oh, no,” Alyssa interrupts. She hates it when he does that to her, but _she’ll_ exercise the privilege freely, Fitz has noticed. Interesting that it doesn’t bother him in the least. “I’m still trying to win you over,” she says with a little smile.

“What makes you think you haven’t?” Fitz asks, swallowing the lump in his throat. Because the truth is, no matter how many arguments there are for why he should let this woman in to his life, even just a little bit…she still hasn’t won him over. However much she makes him think of Jemma, she’s just _not_ Jemma.

Alyssa bats her eyes at him. “You haven’t tried to touch me this whole time. Not even an innocent handholding.” She was right. She looks disappointed, but it’s okay.

Fitz’s insides twist when he wonders if that will be the “problem” he finds with every potential relationship that crosses his path. Jemma is a part of him, that much he knows for sure. There was never a time when he knew her and didn’t love her, and facing a lifetime full of the certainty of not-loving Jemma hasn’t taken away from that love one bit. He wonders how long he’ll desperately try to hold onto that part of himself where the assuredness of Jemma being there, wanting him in her life, was a reality.

He knows that part of himself has been diminishing for years now, like a dune that was once solid and sure being slowly licked away by the tide.

Alyssa has hails a cab, and Fitz notices that a chunk of her long, dark curls is stuck in the buckle of her purse. His hand shoots out to grab her upper arm, disentangle the strands before she drops the bag on the cab’s seat and it pulls painfully. On contact, a strange warm electricity starts to diffuse through his veins. Her personality is so larger-than-life that it’s easy not to notice how small she really is, but his fingers wrap easily all the way around her arm and tuck into the crook of her elbow so perfectly that he wants to keep them there.

So, after they’re settled in the cab and he’s carefully unwound her hair from the heavy buckle, he settles his hand in the very same spot, and swears he feels a shiver run through her. The lights of the City are streaks around them as sun tumbles down out of the sky, always faster in winter than he remembers it happening in summertime. Alyssa is silent, for once, and he’s wondering if she’s focusing on the same thing he is – the slow slide of his fingers from their happy spot in the crook of her elbow down the underside of her forearm.

When Fitz’s palm finally meets hers and their fingers intertwine, Fitz swears he hears a tiny whimper come from her throat. Seconds later, the cab stops.

“Thank you!” Alyssa says cheerily to the driver, handing him a wad of cash with her free hand and tugging Fitz out behind her with the other. Fitz’s eyes trail up to an arch made of Christmas-lit palm trees and bears that proclaims “ZOOLIGHTS.”

A grin breaks out on his face to match the one Alyssa is flashing at him expectantly. “Haven’t been to a zoo since…since I was a kid,” Fitz says.

“The Smithsonian Zoo is very cool.” Alyssa wiggles in place, and Fitz briefly wonders how she’s spent all day in those heeled boots with this much energy and not fallen over. “I’m so happy!” she squeals. “I mean, I’m happy that you’re happy. Come on, let’s go before it gets too cold to see all of them.”

They stroll through a whole zoo made of twinkling-light creatures; a marching family of elephants, penguins darting through a blue-lit ocean, flamingoes, komodo dragons, and a forest full of panda bears munching on bamboo. Alyssa wants to share a soft pretzel, and Leo laughs and buys three, which they devour before any one of them has a chance to get cold. Hot chocolate makes a nice chaser, and the air might be beginning to bite cold at Fitz’s face, but on the inside, he feels like warmth is seeping into his every cell.

“So? What did you think?” Alyssa asks him when they’ve finally seen every display the Smithsonian trimmed in lights.

“The zoo was good. The company was better,” he says, smiling at how that smooth line rolls off his tongue. He can’t get over how easy this all seems – how easy it is to speak about his feelings and smile and laugh when he’s next to her. She’s not Jemma, true…but how can spending time with someone like this be a bad thing?

“The Zoo was just good?” Alyssa asks, not accusingly. No. She has mischief in her eyes.

“Nothing personal,” he explains quickly. “It’s just that every zoo trip without some kind of a monkey sighting is automatically taken down a rank. That’s all.”

“Huh. Well…” Alyssa pulls her phone out of her pocket, clicking it on to check the time, then nodding and shoving it back into her pocket. “I think I can do something about that.”

Fitz draws his eyebrows in, but follows where Alyssa’s insistent tug leads him. They wind through some of the displays they’ve already seen, then behind them, then through some narrow paths that must take Zoo visitors by some kind of animal viewing yards, but really shouldn’t be used during the nighttime. Finally, they reach a tan stucco building with a heavily padlocked door and a sign reading “Authorized Personnel Only.”

“I really hope you’re not planning on breaking and entering, Doctor MacTaggert,” Fitz says in a low voice. “I’m enjoying this little holiday, but that doesn’t mean I’m in the mood to be court martialed.”

Alyssa grins at him wickedly and taps a little pattern of knocks onto the metal door. In a few seconds, Fitz hears the locks click open from inside. A very tall, very muscular guy in zookeeper’s clothes answers it.

He looks at Alyssa like she’s a piece of the most delicious dessert, then tugs her into a hug, picking her up off the ground and twirling her around, his massive forearms tight around her waist.

The flash of jealousy that zings through Fitz is undeniable. When Alyssa squeaks into this guy’s hug, Fitz’s thoughts are clear as day – he wants to be the one to get that noise out of her.

Alyssa giggles. “Put me down, you loser. I’m on a date.”

“Yeah, yeah. And I’m a married man. You still gotta give me some sugar when you see me for the first time in a couple years.”

“Whatever,” she says, swatting him when he sets her down. “This is Leo. The guy I told you about. I want him to have a VIP tour of your area.”

“Good to meet you, man,” the guy says, crushing Fitz’s hand when he shakes it. “I’m Matt, chief keeper at this madhouse. Wanna have a look around?”

Fitz’s eyes dart to Alyssa’s. “Depends one who lives there, mate, honestly. ‘M a bit squeamish about a lot of…er…biological…ehm…materials.”

“No worries, man. It’s super sanitized in here on the daily. Has to be, for the babies.”

Alyssa does a little jig in place again, like her body is simply too tiny to contain all the energy bursting through it.

Fitz finds that he trusts her excitement enough to accept it for himself, too.

Matt the Zookeeper leads them through a series of doors, then opens one last one a crack and sends a smile back to Fitz and Alyssa. “Good. They just woke up.”

The room is studded with tall artificial trees and low-hanging swoops of rope, and the unmistakable screech of a baby monkey comes through the door.

Fitz thinks he might die of happiness.

Matt introduces the two of them to Rambo and VanDamme, the names these tiny little hairy energy bombs have been given while they await the customary community naming contest picks. Fitz barely gets the story of how Alyssa made this visit happen – she worked with the Smithsonian macaques on one of the most crucial parts of her facial recognition patterns thesis, spending hours every day with them for six months, because he’s so focused on how damn _adorable_ they are. 

It only takes a moment for Rambo, the smaller of the two, to curiously toddle up to Fitz, set its big brown eyes on his, tilt his head, and then let out a small screech while it scampers up his shoulder.

After grooming Fitz for a minute or so – Fitz assures Alyssa there are no bugs in his hair, at least as far as he knows – the wee creature comes down from his shoulder and loops its arms around Fitz’s neck, securing its legs around his chest.

Fitz swears he has died and gone to heaven. His smile is so wide that his cheeks hurt. When was the last time he really, truly smiled for any length of time.

When he got Jemma back, of course.

Just like that, the smile is gone. He forces it back when he catches Alyssa peering at him.

Their visit only lasts a couple more minutes, with Matt having to peel Rambo away from Fitz’s arms. He swears the monkey looks sad to see him go, but he supposes the tiny primate has to have feeding time with its mum, no matter how attached he is to Fitz. Matt gives him one more firm handshake with an invitation to stop by again any time, and gives Alyssa another very friendly hug, and then they’re back to standing out in the cold dark.

They walk silently back to through the maze of lights, ending up back where they started, under the arch with the pandas. Fitz smiles down at this dear, dear woman, shaking his head in awe of what just happened. “How did you know? How…how much I love them? I love monkeys, Alyssa. So much. And – to touch one, to see their sweet little faces - I can’t even express to you. Just…how?”

“I may have convinced Tony to let me peek into some of your less classified records. When I saw that you kept requesting a lab monkey from the Hub, and kept getting turned down – obviously, you would, Leo, you live on an airplane half the time, don’t know how you could have thought that you’d ever get approved – I just knew I had to show you this. Especially because – “

“Alyssa,” Fitz says, realizing how low his voice has gotten, “C’mere.” He twists his fingers into the soft cotton of her flowing cardigan, tugging her close to him. Her hipbones bump up right under his and she whimpers the slightest bit before his mouth crashes into hers. He’s all business now, satisfied that the connection between them is strong enough, electric enough, to do this in good conscience.

Fitz has never had sex with a woman he loves – he’s only ever loved one woman. Love is a tricky thing, he knows, elusive and hard to pin down, half the time keeping itself secret until you’re knee deep in it. He’s not an idealist. But before he sleeps with any woman who’s not Jemma, he wants to know, at the very least, there’s a connection.

At the very least, that he _could_ fall in love with her.

He hadn’t felt that until this moment. Her thoughtfulness, her concern, the way she looked into his eyes and he felt a bit more at home than when he was looking somewhere else.

Besides all that, the way her tongue mapped his mouth and tangled with his was truly mesmerizing.

He couldn’t have told anyone how long they’ve been standing there, doing this, clinging to each other and sharing breath and not thinking about, much less caring about, who was watching. This is like standing in a world apart from his reality, but with someone who understood him, at least in part.

 After awhile, Alyssa pulls back and licks her lips. For the first time, Fitz sees them bare. He wonders if her lipstick has rubbed off with him, and gives her a bemused smile when he realizes he really doesn’t care.

“I have a room not far from here,” she murmurs. “Five star suite, it’s really nice. Tony was very generous. I don’t want to pressure you, but…”

“Yes,” Fitz manages, his voice gruff. “Please.”

The air is thick between them in the best way possible while he hails a cab and wrenches the door open. He loves the breathlessness with which Alyssa tells the driver the address of her hotel.

Alyssa reaches down for Fitz’s hand, weaving her fingers through his and letting out a little sigh when she squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. It is stunning, actually, that a person would be this delighted at his touch, so much so that it almost takes him out of the moment. Almost.

Instead of thinking of people who are less delighted by his hands, he lets his thumb rub over the back of hers, slowly, just twice. A warmth twists up from his belly when he does. When she smiles up at him, he feels the slightest bit dizzy and a little lost, in the best way.

 

/

He forces his hands to stay on top of her clothes while they’re still in the elevator. It’s all glass, and he’s all too aware that several people are watching them make out like teenagers as it pulls them up to their floor.  

Alyssa is all soft curves under taut, smooth skin, and Fitz’s fingers sink into the sharp dip of her waist where it meets the generous swell of her hip, and hell if evolutionary imperative isn’t an effective means of attracting men.

No, he knows it’s more than that – more than hormones and sex drive and pheremones. She’s not the woman he’s spent the last several years wanting, but now that Alyssa is here, moaning against his lips and responding to his touch, he finds that he wants her just as much as he ever wanted Jemma. Maybe more, because this is real. Not fantasy.

The thought is overwhelming to him, and when Alyssa swipes the key card over the lock and pushes the door open, he nudges her inside the room insistently, sending the door flying shut behind them and guiding her inside so that she leans against the wall. He stands there in front of her, leaving some inches between them that feel like a mile, waiting for her permission to finish what they started weeks ago over discussions of weaponry and chemical interactions.

The memory is a reminder of her brilliance, and Fitz’s cock twitches, starting a chain reaction that ends in his fingers digging into her waist again. She pushes her whole body up, using the wall for leverage, and rakes her fingers along his scalp, pulling his lips back to hers and groaning, like she’d been close to death and his kisses were the only things keeping her alive.

He isn’t sure whether he pulls her shirt free of her waistband on purpose, but suddenly his palms are skimming over her rips, his thumbs meeting in the middle and sliding down to rest in her belly button, and she’s soft and warm and he thinks he can feel the blood thrumming in her veins and that maybe it’s in rhythm with his.

He drags his hands lower and suddenly the button to her fly is undone. His fingers brush the lace of her underwear, and Alyssa’s head tips back while she whimpers his name.

He freezes, his breaths ragged, still matching hers, even though she’s confused now and he…well, he doesn’t know what he is.

“What…is this?”

Alyssa’s chest heaves, and oh God, the movement of her breasts is hypnotizing. Fitz forces his eyes up and repeats the question. “What are we doing?” His voice grinds out of his throat, and he finds he’s straining to keep himself from crashing into her again.

“I don’t know,” she pants. “But…I think that’s okay. I’m not seeing anyone. I don’t have…a person. No commitments.”

Fitz looks down, considering how to answer that. _Whether_ to answer.

“I do know I want you. However much you want to give me.” He’s never heard her voice softer. Is she nervous?

But that answer is perfect. It’s indefinite and sweet and sexy and carries a hint of a promise that maybe, maybe, this could be more.

A feeling overwhelms him – he wants to comfort her. To care for her. To let her know that there’s something special about her, even if he can’t quite put his finger on what it is.

He growls into another kiss, reaches down to grab her thighs just under her ass, hitches her up so that her legs wrap around his waist. “I want you, too.” He pulls back, brushes a strand of hair from her face. “There’s something about you,” he says, feeling an imminent stutter. “You feel…you feel good,” he finishes lamely. He shakes his head. “Safe and exciting at the same time. Being with you makes me happy.”

She grins against his lips, then thrusts her hips forward, making him gasp. “Makes your cock happy, too,” she says, her voice suddenly sultry again. “Let me take care of you,” her words ghost hot into his mouth.

It’s all he can do to walk her over to the bed and ease her, worshipfully, onto the mattress.


	7. We Are All Hands and Holders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With 38 minutes to spare until 3x07 airs on the East Coast, biatches.
> 
> ~Or~ 
> 
> Fitz finally gets some. And not from Jemma.

Chapter 7 – We Are All Hands and Holders

Fitz’s biceps are burning from the effort of carrying Dr. MacTaggert across the hotel suite and lowering her onto the bed, trying to minimize the impact and catch the half-breathless expression on her face when she lands. She laughs and looks at him with those bedroom eyes Hunter talked about, and now he sees it, he does, how even a picture of her can look unbearably seductive. But those eyes aren’t looking at just anyone, so full of need and excited anticipation – they’re looking at him.

To top it off, she licks her lips, like she’s been dreaming of having him for days, like she’s starving and can’t wait a second longer to devour him.

Her deft hands make quick work of his shirt buttons, and Fitz finds that he loves watching her dark-painted nails ghost over his skin like beacons, marking the path of where she’s touched and claimed him as her own.

Because that’s what he is, now, he realizes as his lips, tongue, and teeth follow the lines of her collarbones to where they meet the upper swell of her breasts, which lay heavy at the top of her breastbone when her body’s inverted like this, her back arched to press her hips hard against his. She’s insistent, repeating the movement over and over, and it feels desperate and crazy but _God_ , so, so _right_.

Fitz can’t believe he was worried about what to do, where to place his hands, which parts of her to take into his mouth and where to swirl his tongue. Just like everything else with the incredible tiny whirlwind that is Doctor MacTaggert, this is easy, and relaxed and so very rich all at the same time.

He doesn’t even know exactly how her jeans came off, or how she managed to shimmy his trousers all the way down to his calves without him really being aware. But their shirts and her bra are long gone and all that skin on skin sends him into a strange cross between unbridled passion and all business. Her body is the same as any machine, really. He knows he can get it up and running at peak performance if he takes his time, listens to what she’s telling him, adds pressure at exactly the right pinpointed spot and makes sure his touches are light where there’s a danger of overload.

Within minutes his fingers have worked down into her knickers, and the hot wet slick of her under his palm is enough to make him come right there. As he scoots down to get a better angle, her nipple bobs before his lips, begging for attention, and he gives it eagerly. She arches her back, breast spreading his lips and pushing path teeth and moaning when he sucks her into his mouth, and in response he fills her with his fingers, working and stretching inside her until he’s certain he could draw a topographical map of her pussy by memory.

 He twists inside her to get a deeper angle, and when his thumb brushes that spot just north of her entrance, she keens and pants and dear God, he absolutely must memorize how he’s done this, because he wants to do it again and again. The sound shoots straight down to his cock, taking what was rock-hard and making it into steel, straining against his shorts so that the tip pokes out. The drop of slick at his head smears against her thigh, and it feels so good that he can’t imagine how he’ll contain the pleasure when he’s finally inside her.

“Leo,” she gasps, after the tip of his middle finger has found a seemingly magical spot on the inside of her upper wall, and caused her to writhe in an entirely different way when he strokes against it, “Leo, I need you. Please. I have to have you inside me, or I’m going to –“

Fitz knows what happens when a woman has an orgasm, and as much as he wants to please Alyssa, a larger part of him wants to know what it’s like, to feel that part of her clenching around that part of him. He’s slept with a few other women, yes, but with her, it’s different. She’s managed to grab hold of his heart and give it a picture of what life could be like, if only he wanted to reach out and take it.

As he slides up beside her and sucks at her neck, he knows that he’s painting himself a picture of another choice he could very well make. Not that a future with Alyssa is his for the taking, but maybe it could be. If he wanted it. If he worked for it.

Maybe it wouldn’t even slice him apart and force him to sew himself back together, over and over.

Fitz is more agile under the influence of this tidal storm of arousal than he ever imagined he could be. Letting one hand continue to tease at her folds, reducing her to a trembling, begging work of art, he reaches down to his work bag and manages to extract a condom.

Her nimble fingers grab it from him. She yanks his boxers down with one hand, and while he kicks them off, she pulls the condom out and rolls it over him. It’s so fast and expert that he barely has time to register the first moment her skin brushes him _just there,_ but it’s breathtaking nonetheless.

Fitz slides up even further, taking the moment to touch his nose against hers, to trace her neck and then her jaw and then her lip with the lightest of touches. She’s addictive, that’s what she is – he didn’t know what he was getting into until he was already halfway there, and now he can’t stop his mouth from wanting to taste and bite every inch of her. He shifts himself over her as he sucks at her bottom lip, and she spreads her legs, inviting him in, making it all too easy.

“Please, Leo. Please.” All Alyssa’s confidence dissolves away as she begs him to be inside her, and it’s adorable and desperate and the biggest fucking turn-on he could imagine. He might as well not be wearing a condom at all for how hot she is for him and how sensitive every cell of his cock is as it pushes inside her.  When he’s finally in to the hilt, she throws her head back, and half-gasps, half laughs, like she’s won some incredible hard-fought victory and this is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to her.

Right this second, it’s the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to him, too.

“Christ,” he gasps, at the same time she says, “Move, Leo.” Her voice is velvet and her body is satin and when her hands grab at his ass and pull him into her, he gives himself over. With every thrust, he pistons harder, trading sensation for friction, feeling for heat.

“God, yes. That’s it,” she says, meeting one of his more enthusiastic thrusts with a twist of her hips that nearly sends him over the edge.

“Lyss, I don’t know if I’ll – I mean – oh, God!” he growls, reaching down to dig his thumb into the soft flesh just above her hip bone. “Are you -?”

She’s panting his name like it’s a prayer, and now every movement he makes pulls a desperate keen from her throat, and there’s no fucking way he can keep this up for much longer. When she hitches her thighs up high around him, he leans back to compensate, and that’s when it happens.

“Leo!” She screams, like she couldn’t hold it back if she tried, like she’s seen witnessed and the angels and some scientifically inexplicable phenomenon all in the same instant. She clenches around him, her hips stuttering to meet his in a wild frenzy, and one second later, he follows her over the edge, the incredible pleasure-pain of everything that had been building between them finally breaking free, giving him the release he’s needed for so long now.

He can’t breathe, he can’t see, he can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. Fitz’s reality is fundamentally altered, and the man he was an hour ago feels wholly separate from who he is now  - someone that a woman like Alyssa wants, someone who can make her drag him up to her hotel room and pull an orgasm so hard out of her that she can’t speak for minutes afterward.

Of course, it’s not like he’s waxing eloquent or reciting poetry just now, either.

Their breaths finally slow, not syncing to the same rhythm but syncopating in a pleasant pattern that he thinks might lull him to sleep.

 Alyssa’s fingers lazily stroke his back as she lightly sucks at the spot of skin just behind his jaw, and when she pulls back, she murmurs, “That’s it, Leo. Just breathe. Everything, right this moment, is perfect.”

Fitz finally finds the strength to pull back and peer at her. “It was okay, then?” He’s half teasing and half genuinely asking, even though he knows the answer. No woman makes sounds like that without having a bloody good orgasm, and the thrill of having caused it still thrums through his veins.

“You asked me what this was,” Alyssa says against his neck, so soft and intimate that it takes the tense edge off the subject matter.

“I did,” Fitz answers. He half cares and half wants to drift off to sleep and just repeat this day over and over.

 “I know that you don’t know what this is. That you can’t. But I want you to know…that’s okay, Leo.”

Fitz clears his throat, forces himself to look at her. “It is?”

“Well, it’s not wrong. That we did this.”

“No,” Fitz agrees, though he can’t ignore the insidious whispering edge of guilt that’s creeped into his thoughts.

“But,” she continues. “I know there are other factors at play.”

"Yes. No. It's..."

 

"Complicated. I know."

 

"You do?"

 

"Leo, I'm a computational biologist. I spent years of my life reading primates' facial expressions. And any idiot could figure out that there's something going on between you and Dr. Simmons."

 

"There's not, though."

“There’s no commitment between you,” she says, sure of herself. Her hand drifts down to skim his hip, and if they weren’t talking about this, about her, it might have been the catalyst for round two.

 

It can never be that simple between him and Jemma, never has been, but he nods, swallowing drily. It's true. There's no commitment between them. 

 

He doesn't owe it to Jemma to wait for her decision, between him and Will, between a life he would have given her a million times over and a life that she stumbled upon. He has to be honest, has to admit - She's never even suggested that she considers him a choice. 

“So this wasn’t wrong,” Alyssa repeats. “In fact, it felt pretty damn right. At least on my end.”

“Hey,” Fitz growls, suddenly protective of this delicious woman and everything she is, the one bright spot of sunshine in his life. “It felt like…like perfection.”

 

“Yeah,” she sighs happily into his neck. “I liked it. A lot.”

A smile tugged at Fitz’s lips. “Me, too.”

 

Perhaps Fitz was so used to love feeling like pain that he had never stopped to consider that it could be something so much more pleasant.

 

 

 

This isn’t a time for promises, and they both seem to instinctively know that. Fitz and Alyssa drift apart from each other as the night goes on, and when he wakes up without her in his arms, he’s not really surprised and only a little disappointed.

She helps him hail a cab after watching him get flustered trying to do it himself and giggling her head off.

“Yesterday was incredible, Leo,” she mumbles against his lips as he pulls her in for one last kiss.

“Yeah. I never thought I’d…” he sweeps his tongue into her mouth, “get to cuddle with a baby macaque. Just astounding.”

She pushes at his chest then, but he only hugs her tight to him in response. “Seriously, though. Thank you,” he says, feeling his brogue thicken slightly and her body relax in response.

“Maybe we’ll see each other. Maybe soon,” she says tentatively, her trademark confidence suddenly lowered to a whisper.

“You know how to find me,” he says, holding up his phone.   
“Yes, I do,” she says, looking hard into his eyes now. “But I’m going to let you be the one to find me. Okay?”

He understands. She’s setting him free, giving him time to see if he wanted to change his mind. Really, she’s giving Jemma time to change hers.

It’s kind, he knows, but it’s also smart. Even the incredible Doctor Alyssa MacTaggert is capable of having her heart broken. Just, hopefully, not yet.

“Soon,” he promises, before he brushes one more kiss against her lips and is headed back to the Playground.

“Fitz,” Mack says. “Congratulations, man!”

Fitz flushes red instinctively before he whirls around to see what in the blazes Mack is talking about. Fitz’s phone is lit up on the counter several feet away from him, where he was just fixing tea, and he lunges for it.  Alyssa must have sent him something. She hadn’t kept her promise of letting him be the first to make contact, after all.

It’s too late. Mack has taken it over to the couch where everyone is gathered, playing scrabble. Everyone except Simmons. She’s been holed up all weekend, Fitz’s teammates told him, doing God knew what. Fitz didn’t really want to think about it. He knew where her focus was.

Daisy’s jaw drops as she grabs the phone. “Fitz. Explain yourself. Now.” She flashes the phone toward him and there they are, the two of them, with Fitz cradling Rambo against his chest.

“Yes. Explain. You can start with the monkey.” Mack says, smirking.

“Alyssa – she…knew someone at the Smithsonian. Thought I would enjoy seeing the babies.”

“Anything else she thought you might enjoy, Turbo?”

Fitz fumbles for some words, any words, to diffuse this conversation, and considers just launching himself across the coffee table and rescuing his phone.

Then he looks up and panic sweeps him. Jemma must have just come in, and is staring at everyone, frozen solid. Her eyes flick to the phone for a long moment, then sweep over to him, silently asking a million questions that he doesn’t know how to answer. Or maybe he doesn’t want to.

“I…um…I didn’t know you were consulting with Doctor MacTaggert.” Her voice is ragged and her eyes glisten. She looks pale. Exhausted.   


“Consulting is one word for it,” Hunter snorts. Bobbi smacks him, but it’s too late. Jemma has already whirled around and left the room.

The silence that’s left in her wake is deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers indicate that the direction of this fic might take a dramatic turn after tonight's episode. You've been warned.


	8. Beneath This Bold and Brilliant Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's back!
> 
> Mass Inhuman Indexing is a little out of Jemma's area of expertise, but it's the perfect assignment for our favorite computational biologist, Agent Dr. Dr. Dr. Alyssa MacTaggart. 
> 
> Welcome to the playground, Doctor. Godspeed, Fitz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know our favorite little duo had some kissy-facing last week, but I don't think things are looking good for them yet, not by a long shot. 
> 
> Time to stroke Fitz's ego! (Nothing else of Fitz's gets stroked this chapter, sorry. Maybe later.)

Leo Fitz is dying.

Well, not literally. He’s already died, once, though, and he knows for a fact that drowning is far more pleasant than what he feels now.

He kissed Jemma. She kissed him. Before that, they argued. He poured out his soul, his frustration about the fact that he’d missed every single chance he had with her, and finally, spectacularly lost to an astronaut.

Of _course_ it would be an astronaut.

He isn’t overreacting, either, or hearing things that Jemma never said. He’s not putting words into her mouth, not this time. That’s maybe the worst part. He’d been brave enough to ask if she loved Will. Part of him never imagined she would say yes, her voice as it rang out with the single word so sure and clear. But she did.

No room for argument there. Jemma is in love with a man on another planet instead of Fitz, who, she so helpfully screamed at him just minutes ago, dove through a hole in the universe for her.

It figures.

And then it was right back to work. Jemma noticed something inside a book that only fell to the floor because Fitz had pushed her up against their lab bench. To kiss her like his life depended on it. But that obviously didn’t faze Jemma, who saw the symbols there and immediately started thinking of Will again.

They’ve finally finished reporting their findings to Coulson and the Team, and it’s late, and Fitz just wants to get to his room and have a lie-down. And maybe a drink first.

He downs two fingers of whiskey from the bottle May had silently slid onto the small table in his room a few days earlier, toes out of his shoes, and collapses on his bed, quickly slipping into sleep.

There’s a rhythmic knock on the door – Jemma’s knock – but it’s soft and only happens once. He’s probably dreaming it, anyway, he thinks as he lets his eyelids cover his world in darkness.

 

 

Fitz’s sleep is solid, a relief in the sea of turmoil his life has been in the solid week he’d been back at the Playground. He dreams of Jemma’s lips pressing against his, and it doesn’t matter that it happens over and over and over, never progressing, because it also never stops. And during those dreams, at least, he’s happy, and hopeful.

By the time a text from Coulson vibrates his watch against his wrist, he wakes easily. He wants a meeting with Fitz, and it’s a good thing, Fitz thinks. If he had to be responsible for himself today, he might end up doing something monumentally stupid. Again.

“Fitz, thanks for coming in so early. We’re working on a quick schedule here, and I need you field-ready ASAP.”

“Did you find a lead on the HYDRA connections to the monolith, Sir? Should I call Jemma?” He half-hoped Coulson had done the solving for him, now that they’d brought him the proof of HYDRA’s connection to Will’s space program. Maybe Fury’s toolbox had some information on that, too.

“No. I know that’s top priority, but this just edges it out. Seems that a local co-op was carrying a Fish-oil supply with a particularly potent terrigen concentration, and we just caught word that an E.R. close by has nearly a dozen new Inhumans manifesting as we speak. Our agents have them in lockdown for now, but we’re going to need some of our med pods on the ground to get them here as quickly as possible.”

“Happy to help, Sir, but you need me on the ground because…?”

“We want to establish strong records of the Inhuman’s transformations, step-by-step. Dozens of variables need to be recorded and charted in real time. As Rosalind and I were talking about it, I realized we have the perfect tools already…”

“The D.W.A.R.F.S.,” Fitz says, realizing. The D.W.A.R.F.S. could perform a number of scans in seconds and send the data anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye. “Of course, Sir. Absolutely no problem, glad to help.” It would actually be quite a welcome distraction from everything going on in the stifling walls of the base.  “Except…I haven’t the slightest clue of the programming that’ll  need to be installed…it’s all bio, isn’t it? I will be needing Simmons, after all.” Working with Jemma in the field again - just one more thing he wasn’t sure whether he was happy about or dreading.

“No, no. She could get the job done in a pinch, but since we’re going to be devoting our resources to this long-term, I have a dedicated scientist on this. One who actually has this sort of thing as her area of expertise. “

Fitz’s emotions and his stomach stability seem to be eternally doomed to be at odds. He knows who Coulson is talking about. Of course. A project like this was one hundred percent, completely perfectly suited to a computational biologist, like Doctor Alyssa MacTaggart.

As if thinking his name had summoned her, the telltale rhythm of her heels striking the floors approaches the door, and Fitz watches the doorknob turn, shooting to his feet.

“Lyss,” he breathes, the sound of her name instantly bringing to mind the last time he’d called her that. He’d been inside her, and it had felt bloody amazing.

It doesn’t help that she’s so goddamn gorgeous.

“Welcome to the Playground, Doctor MacTaggart,” Coulson says, stretching out a hand. Fitz would be lying if he said he didn’t notice the slight smirk on Coulson’s lips.  “Glad you could make it so quickly.”

“It’s my honor, Director Coulson,” Alyssa says, her eyes flashing into Fitz’s. “Excited to get to work with Fitz again, on his turf.”

Coulson cocks his head and looks at her quizzically. “I expected Scottish.”

Alyssa laughs heartily, a sound far too big for a woman her size, flashing that endlessly charming smile of hers at Coulson. “Nope. I’m afraid it’s just the rare last name that survived Ellis Island intact. Doctor Fitz here is still one of a kind, looks like.”

She didn’t say a damn flirtatious thing, but the way she leans toward Fitz and wafts that bakery-delicious scent of hers his way has him blushing furiously.  She smells so delectable and innocent, but Fitz has seen the way her curves look with only lace delineating them, has tasted her skin with his own tongue. The memory of his other senses betray him, and even though he’s still reeling from the heartache of kissing Jemma and seeing her walk away from him, from them, anyway, Alyssa awakens something more primal, more passionate than even the deepest emotions can reach.

Just being near her, it seems, is enough to activate those memories, to undo him in this small way.

When they step back out into the hallway, assignments with specifications in hand, Fitz can’t figure out where to set his eyes. He wants to look at Alyssa, to take time to consider, to evaluate, to take stock of his feelings while his eyes take her in, like a priceless painting. It’s as if But that would be creepy, he decides, so he just pretends to be enthralled with some page of the document Coulson sent to their tablets.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.” Once again, Doctor MacTaggart unleashes her particularly lethal brand of innocence mixed with irresistibility. The words are not a surprise, but the way she steps so boldly into his space and smiles up at him through her lashes as she says them, voice soft and throaty, have his brain set firmly in the memory of when she growled other, not-so-professional things into his ear just days ago.

“I – um – er – it’s –“ Fitz flashes back to when he was in the throes of dealing with hypoxic aphasia, unable to get words past his tripping tongue with any reliability.

Finally, he forces his eyes to meet hers, and her expression shifts so suddenly it’s as if she flipped a switch, her eyebrows furrowed in something between exasperation and concern. “Are you okay?”

Fitz lets out a long sigh of relief. “It’s just that – well, I’m glad to see you, certainly glad you’ll be on this project with me, don’t get me wrong. Just – er – well, what we had – erm, off-base, well –“

“It’s different here. I get it.” Again, her words are clear enough, but the way she’s looking at him, her lips quirked in slightly amused anticipation, muddle them all up.

“You do?”

“Sure. Doctor Simmons is here, right? And I assume it’s safe to say things aren’t really settled between you two.”

“Not even close,” Fitz blurts, suddenly wondering if it was the right thing to say, wishing he could take it back.

“They weren’t then, either. You never promised me anything, Leo, and I don’t expect anything from you now that I’m here.”

This is quite confusing, because he feels a pang in his chest at those words, too. He doesn’t love Alyssa, but he quite enjoys being with her, and is appreciative of the…distractions she provided him nonetheless. She listened to him. Seemed to care how he felt. Of course he’d get a bit attached.

She must see the confusion in his face, because she takes the opportunity to step even closer. She’s so petite, shorter even than Jemma, but somehow more as well – more curve, more to sink his fingers into.  Some unexplained desire to wrap his arms around her and lift her up so she’s eye level to him shoots through Fitz.

Pesky intimate memories.

One finger stretches out, perfect manicure glinting in the dim Playground lighting, and runs under Fitz’s collar, then down the buttons of his shirt, stopping just shy of his navel. “I don’t expect anything one way or the other. I like you. I like spending time with you. But this is your turf. Your call. Okay?”

Fitz swallows hard, nods dumbly.

Alyssa steps back then, her entire demeanor changed. “Good. With that understood, we are under some pretty tight time constraints. Get me set up with a workspace in the lab?”

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course.”

Alyssa chatters pure professionalism – she’ll need at least three screens, the best processor they have, a couple of assistants, and a triple espresso  -  as Fitz leads her to his lab. To _their_ lab. His and Jemma’s, and now, he supposes, his and Alyssa’s.

 It feels good, he realizes, that Coulson sees him as someone valuable apart from Simmons – someone who might even be better off with someone else, at least on this project. Suddenly, Fitz feels that he can take a deep breath. If he can work better with someone else, maybe the prospect of being apart from Jemma in other ways won’t turn out to be so terrible, after all.

Maybe Fitz just needs that chance, that push, to work with – to _be_ with - someone else. Maybe Alyssa is it.

Fitz walks a bit taller, his strides coming stronger, as the lab door comes into view.  The enticing, brilliant Doctor MacTaggart may indeed be his undoing in some ways. At the same time, it seems that his undoing just might be the key to building his life back up, too.


	9. And This I Swear to All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma finds herself quickly and decisively replaced. And of course, on such short notice, she'll need to lend the annoyingly gorgeous and intelligent Agent Dr. Dr. Dr. Alyssa MacTaggart her tac gear.
> 
> This. Sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One from Jemma's PoV? Sure. Let's have some girl talk between her and the other woman. 
> 
> *cackles*
> 
> (It's pretty clear in this chapter, I think, that I do still love our sweet English crumpet dearly, and feel quite bad for her. Hopefully she gets her shit together sooner rather than later.)

Chapter 9

Jemma didn’t sleep a wink.

She’d been going about this all wrong. No, she couldn’t forget Will, and what she had with him. Not ever. But kissing Fitz had been like opening her eyes and seeing colors she’d heard existed, but had never seen before. The way his hands clutched at her waist made her imagine how they’d feel against her bare skin – the feel of his lips on hers only made her hungry for his tongue sweeping her mouth. Most surprisingly, the way his scruff scraped against the pads of her fingers made her desperate to touch every part of him in that slow, tender way.

When she’d kissed Will, when she’d slid her hands over his skin, she’d only ever been chasing a feeling, one of completion and satisfaction that never did come. One brush of Fitz’s lips against hers gave her everything she’d been longing for from Will, and more. Fitz was a guarantee of nights filled with conversation and gentle teasing, of days spent moving perfectly in tandem through the kitchen, the lab, their bedroom, because that’s how well they knew each other.

All these thoughts fell into place like puzzle pieces to make a picture so clear it took Jemma’s breath away, but they’d broken apart again and flown to the corners of the universe when, instead of kissing her senseless and hauling her back to his bunk, Fitz had broken the kiss and declared they were cursed. He walked away from her in the same instant she realized that she would only ever want to walk toward him.

Maybe they are cursed, after all.

Jemma blinks that thought away, reminding herself how stupid it is. Magic isn’t real, planets don’t have moods, and the cosmos wants nothing. Sometimes, she wishes she could believe those things. It would make her feel a hell of a lot less guilty for a fair few things, not least of all this mess, which she hasn’t the first clue how to go about cleaning up.

She supposes a good first step would be to put herself in Fitz’s space again. She’s been avoiding the lab, partly because of that pesky guilt she feels whenever she’s in the same room as him, and partly because she doesn’t really know what she should be doing. Aside from that blood analysis Daisy asked her for weeks ago, nobody has even suggested they that might be thinking about giving her an assignment.

She thinks she knows how Fitz felt after his coma, now. Useless, and pitied. Like everyone loved him but was annoyed by his inefficacy at the same time.  It’s awful.

Nevermind that. Only she can control the image she projects to the rest of the team. Jemma finds a soft sweater that she wouldn’t mind Fitz digging his fingers into, and she smiles at the thought as she pulls it over her head. Fitz has a temper, and maybe combined with the pain she’s managed to inflict on him, “we’re cursed” was the outcome. Maybe if she sends him the right signals….

A bit of eyeshadow and more mascara than she’s worn since she got back make her eyes look quite pretty. They’ll never be as beautiful as his, but when she smiles she looks the most like her old self that she has in months.

Jemma nods, business-like, at herself in the mirror. He kissed her. Maybe this can be salvaged, after all. It has to be. He has to give her at least one more chance, now that she’s come so far.

The lab is only a three minute walk from the living quarters, and Jemma fights to keep her confidence intact and her head level. This will all be fine. It has to be. They’ll get Will back, she’ll make sure he’s well and then explain everything to him. He’ll understand. Will probably already knows. After all, he knew Fitz was her favorite word. She was happy with him, over there, but that was a different world. Literally.

One of the new lab assistants is already stalking out of the lab in a huff, matching strides with a friend and complaining loud enough for Jemma to hear her down the hall. “So of course the visiting Agent would get my lab bench. It’s like I have a target painted on my back or something.”

“Oh, you know it’s not that,” the girl’s friend counters soothingly. “Your station is the closest to Doctor Fitz, and she’s his partner on this.”

The ousted Agent sighs. “I would kill to be his partner. Just, you know…outside the lab.”

“You and half the techs. Take a number,” he friend says with a meaningful look, and then they dissolve into giggles.

It’s only then that Simmons gets close enough to them to notice.  They stop in their tracks and look at her, terrified.  “Oh! G-Good morning, Doctor Simmons. We were just…”

“Engaged in quite an unprofessional conversation about the head of this base’s science division, yes. I heard.” On most days, Jemma would give them a gentle smile, a warning not to let her hear it again, but the subject matter has thrown her off and made her cross. Did all these young girls really want to…be with Fitz?

How had she missed so much? How had she watched him nearly every day for a decade and never noticed how bloody sexy he was? It had only taken these tittering girls a short while.

The girls continued on their way down the hall when a different sort of dread seized Jemma – they’d been talking about Fitz’s partner. That was her. Except she did not need a new desk. And as far as Jemma knows, the only thing they’re working on together is figuring out how to open that portal. And Jemma already has a station that’s arranged in a very particular fashion.

The only way she makes it to the center of the lab, where Fitz works, without freezing is that the realization of what they meant takes a while to take hold, only fully forming when Jemma notices a woman in a form-fitting pencil skirt and stiletto heels bent over the desk right beside his. Fitz, wearing one of those lovely button-downs and a suit jacket to top it off, sits in a rolling chair beside her, chattering about the computer specs of her machines, jabbing at the screen and then flipping over a small piece of machinery in his hand to show her something.

Jemma’s heart stops and drops into her stomach. It’s a D.W.A.R.F.. One of the first things she and Fitz made together.

Without a single sound from Jemma, Fitz pauses mid-sentence and whips his head around to take her in. The woman follows his lead, drawing herself up to standing and putting the true curvy glory of her frame on display. She’s got as many curves as Natasha Romanov on a frame that’s half a foot shorter. Even in those heels, so completely ridiculous for a laboratory setting, she isn’t as tall as Jemma, who now feels dowdy in her trainers and roomy jumper.

The worst part is that Jemma knows who this is. She’s only ever seen her on the other side of a video call, and in that horrible photo she sent to Fitz’s mobile a week ago. This woman with round blue eyes, shining dark hair that cascades over her shoulders in shining curls, a flawlessly painted mouth, and adorable eyeglasses that she probably likes to toss off, one-handed, for a sexy bedroom effect.

The idea of her doing anything sexy or bedroom or, God forbid, any combination of the two with Fitz makes Jemma’s stomach churn.

“What’re you doing here?”  Jemma gasps, barely getting the words out.

“Huh?” The woman’s eyes are bright blue, and if she and Fitz had children together they’d have a very good chance of inheriting them. The thought makes Jemma’s stomach flip so hard and fast that she half wants to turn tail to the loo. “Oh! I’m Fitz’s partner. For this project. The Inhuman indexing…turns out they needed someone with a bit more expertise, so here I am!”

Jemma stands frozen to the spot. Dr. MacTaggart is a biologist. Jemma is a biologist. Why couldn’t Jemma do this project? Did Coulson have that little faith in her?

“There must be some mistake,” Jemma says, striding over to this horrible woman, forcing her to step away from Fitz to make room for her. “I developed these D.W.A.R.F.S. with Fitz. I can help him with any biological programming he might need.”

Fitz’s eyes flare wide and he stutters something about advanced analyticals before wheeling a few feet away to his own station. Dr. MacTaggart looks at Jemma with something like pity.

“Oh, Jemma. It’s nothing personal.” The blasted woman actually touches Jemma’s shoulder, which would be outrageously annoying if she hadn’t just called her by her _first name_. With no professional niceties! In Jemma’s _own lab!_ “It’s just that I’ve spent the better part of the year working on the finer diagnostic analysis of the Inhuman indexing, and with this large of a group manifesting all at once we can’t afford to make any mistakes.

Mistakes? _Mistakes_? Jemma is about to tell this woman exactly where to put her diagnostic criteria when Fitz wheels back, jumping right back into conversation with this little lipsticked trollop. “Alright, Alyssa, if we just upload your sets into the program base all the D.W.A.R.F.s should get it, and then we can command them from one machine.”

Jemma blurts, “Did you make sure you –“

 “recalibrated them for delivery of the data as well as intake, yeah,” Fitz finishes.

Doctor MacTaggart – Alyssa – stands up just a little straighter, her shoulders maybe just a bit stiffer, and her gaze flicks between the two of them, wary. Good. She should be. Jemma knows that nobody can compare to her in Fitz’s life.

Or, she used to know that. Now the voluptuous doctor is stepping into Fitz’s space, resting a manicured hand on his shoulder and standing on tiptoes to whisper something in his ear. And, in response, Fitz’s ears and neck blaze red, and then – oh, God – he _smiles_.

This woman walked into Fitz’s life only weeks ago, and Jemma’s been there for ten years. Ten years of being clueless and terrified, versus a few weeks of this woman apparently knowing exactly what she wants from Fitz.

Then, of all things, Fitz chuckles, then looks at Jemma. She must look a mess, because as Dr. MacTaggart lowers back down and busies herself collecting materials at her work station, Fitz takes a couple steps toward Jemma. He plays with his ear and looks anywhere but in Jemma’s eyes. Jemma knows this look. Fitz is about to say something he knows she won’t like.

“Alyssa’ll be needing some tac gear, and since she’s here on such short notice, she’s got none on the base. She’s quite small -”

“I see,” Jemma says, clenching her teeth against the comment about the other woman’s cleavage that is dying to burst out.   


“And the only one that comes close to her size is…er…”

“Me,” Jemma says, pushing out a sigh, immediately regretting it. She should at least attempt to conceal her utter displeasure at this woman’s presence here. At her hands touching Fitz, at her whispers in his ear making him smile. The nerve of her.

“May’s a bit smaller than you, but –“

“She would kill anyone who touched her stuff, I know.” Jemma swallows hard. She wouldn’t object to May ripping into this pompous woman from Stark Labs for presuming to touch her Kevlar. But that’s neither here nor there.

Fitz gives her a tight smile, devoid of any of the light his last grin had. “Thanks, Jemma. I told her where the locker rooms are, so if you could head down there, it’d be…”

“Wait, now? You’re leaving now?”

“Soon,” Fitz says, dipping his head and pretending to have a bit of trouble with putting Sleepy back in his case. Jemma knows he doesn’t struggle with that, not anymore.   “Wheels up in thirty.”

“Will I…um…it’s just that…is it dangerous?” Jemma finishes lamely.

“Shouldn’t be. We don’t know what any of these Inhuman manifests look like just yet, all we know is that they’re non-threatening. So far. And my field work is much improved, should be able to keep Alyssa and myself out of trouble.”

Another image that makes Jemma’s stomach roil – Fitz putting himself in danger to protect this other woman. The idea that he would go to the same heroic extremes to protect someone else as he did to rescue her makes her want to run back to her room and stare at the wall.

But after all Fitz did for her, the least she could do is help his new partner into some tac gear. So she places a gentle hand on Fitz’s shoulder, even if she can’t look him in the eye. “You’ll be careful,” she murmurs, not waiting for an answer before she heads for the locker room, trying to figure out how she’ll make it through the next twenty minutes.

 

/

 

By the time Jemma reaches the large room lined in lockers, Doctor MacTaggart is already stripped down to her underthings. Her breasts are gorgeous, Jemma notes with a high curved brow, pushed up from black lace to perfect mounds underneath delicate collarbones. Jemma’s eyes shift down and she tries to keep them from rolling back in her head – what sort of a woman wears a _garter_ anymore?

This woman does. And Jemma doesn’t doubt for a second that every man who’s encountered her finds it irresistibly sexy.

“Thanks,” she says to Jemma with a soft smile. “I swear I’ll get Tony to send you new ones, right away. Though from what Leo’s told me, you’re not going back into the field for the forseeable future.”

“I may be,” Jemma sniffs. “It’s quite irrelevant now, either way.” She crosses brusquely to her locker and deftly pulls out shirt, leggings, holster and vest, handing them to the other woman. “Just haven’t had the opportunity yet."

“Okay….” Doctor MacTaggart gives her a quick, tolerant smile before getting busy with the zips and buckles of the various layers of heavy black cloth.

Jemma turns heel and takes a step to the door. “If you’re alright, I’ll just excuse mys-“

“He loves you a lot, you know.”

“Pardon?” Jemma stops in her tracks, wanting to run from those words and get as close to them as possible, all at the same time.

“He talks about you all the time. The whole time we were together, he told me Academy stories about the two of you. Jokes that were so inside there was no way I was going to understand them. Apparently, I take my coffee the way you take your tea. Strong with –“

“- a dash of cream. Extra hot. Yeah.”

Jemma is frozen, not knowing what to say to that.

“He kept stopping mid-sentence and looking at me, like I could read his mind. Like he was waiting for me to finish his thought. I never could.”

Jemma swallows hard at that, not sure whether to be happy that this woman couldn’t do what she can, or crushed that Fitz was looking for someone else who could do the same as her. Who could replace her.

Doctor MacTaggart threads the last straps through the buckles on her outer jacket, and sits on the bench to get to work on the boots. Before she does, though, she looks at Jemma thoughtfully, like she’s trying to decide whether to say anything else. Then she sighs heavily. “He didn’t even know he was doing it. Even when he should have been totally focused on me, when…you know…he wasn’t. His head was somewhere else. I’m betting it was with you.”

Jemma’s knees are weak now, and without thinking it fully through, she sits on the bench beside the other woman. She smells good, like her mother’s kitchen on Boxing Day. Like things baking, like comfort. She doesn’t have to ask the question to know the answer, but she wants to know fully what she’s dealing with. Her voice is soft, choked with the words. “So the two of you – did you -?”

“Just once,” Doctor MacTaggart rushes in. The set of her lips tells her that she doesn’t want to discuss it further, even though she respects Jemma enough to be honest.

Jemma lets out a shaky breath, feeling stabbed through the heart and punched in the stomach at once. A fat tear rolls down her cheek, and she hopes Doctor MacTaggart won’t notice it since she’s lacing her boots. Of course, she does. When she sits up again, her eyes are all sympathy when they look into Jemma’s.

“Listen, sweetie. I know you’ve had a shit year. I know what it’s like. Not the whole getting thrown on another planet thing, but being torn between two guys. D’you wanna know what I’ve learned?”

No. Jemma does not want to hear from this pompous midget of a woman. But she can’t get any words out, and another tear is threatening to fall, so she nods quickly.

“If the idea of a man with someone other than you makes you feel like your whole world is unraveling, you love him.”

Jemma just sighs out another shaky breath. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Doctor MacTaggart shrugs and stands, straightening the too-large gear as best she can over her body. “Whatever you say. I mean, this division of S.H.I.E.L.D. is totally bonkers, if the rumors are true. Near death missions every other day, crazy alien shit, Hydra around every corner.”

“Unplanned vacations across the universe,” Jemma says, proud of herself for cracking even a little bit of a joke.

“That too. And that sucks. I can only imagine. But at the same time, life goes on. Sooner or later, he’s gonna want to be happy. And if it’s not with you, it’ll be somebody else.”

Jemma’s jaw sets and she finds the courage to let her eyes flash into the bold woman, standing there over her.

“I’m not saying it’s me,” she rushes. “I’m not here to fight for him, or anything. I like him, yeah, but by the time he finally gives up on you, I could be somewhere else entirely. I’m just saying that he’s a wonderful guy. Kind of weird, more than a little cranky, but brilliant. Kind.”

“I know,” Jemma chokes out, suddenly regretful that she never made it a point to tell Fitz that she had thought all these things about him, always. Even the cranky part.

“You don’t owe him anything. I know he risked his life to save you, but…”

“That’s just the sort of thing he does,” Jemma whispers. “He’s a hero.”

“Yeah. He is,” Doctor MacTaggart agrees.

She doesn’t need to say anything else. Neither does Jemma. She understands, however painful it is. She won’t have forever to decide which man she loves to let go. To decide which one she wants more.

“Well, I’m gonna get going,” Doctor MacTaggart says after a few moments of silence. “Thanks again for the gear.”

Jemma nods, numb, not quite able to believe that she’s in a locker room all over again, that Fitz is headed out for a mission all over again, but this time she’s just had a heart-to-heart with Fitz’s last shag.

Doctor MacTaggart is almost out the door when practicality takes over. Jemma shoots to her feet and calls, “Wait.” She crosses over to the dark-haired woman, standing even shorter now that she’s out of those heels, and clears her throat. “You, um…you’ll want to put your hair back. Let me.”

As Jemma rakes her fingers through Doctor MacTaggart’s long, shining tresses before tying them into a neat, secure top knot, she tries, and fails miserably, to not think about how Fitz’s fingers probably did the exact same thing with this woman’s hair just days ago.

The whole way back to her bunk, Jemma can only think one thing – she’s felt dozens of different kinds of pain, but this one is by far the worst.


	10. Monuments Are Built Beneath the Arbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. MacTaggart hears about Fitz's heroics on Maveth. It's kind of hard to stay away from him after he admits that he stepped through a hole in space-time. Can you blame her?
> 
> ~or~ 
> 
> Dr. MacTaggart even looks good in trainers and yoga pants. You shouldn't be surprised.
> 
> ~or~ 
> 
> Nothing stays secret for long at the Playground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! I've been crazy-busy drafting original novels and then dealing with life in general. Hope you guys like this chapter. 
> 
> As always, your feedback and kudos make my whole day brighter. And we need it this time of year. 
> 
> xox MJ

 

“I heard about what happened.”

“What did you hear?” It’s strange casually but vaguely discussing his trip to another planet and battle with Death itself over video conference with a woman he slept with once and quite honestly likes a great deal.

“I heard you were in Europe. I heard you blew up some castle. And I heard you were the last one out of the med pod after the last-minute extraction.”

Fitz could swear he hears her voice shake. When he looks up, for once, she isn’t smiling. There is no teasing in her tone. Her brow is furrowed, and her eyes are asking a silent question he can’t decipher. Or maybe he doesn’t want to.

He scrubs a palm over his face. “Did you hear anything else?”

“Yes, Leo, I heard that you ripped a hole in the space-time continuum, and, knowing you, you jumped right through it, didn’t you?” Her voices twists and her eyebrows draw in.

Fitz has never seen her adorable face so contorted, and it stabs him in the gut with guilt. He sits with his lips pressed together, silent.

“Dammit. I’m coming out there.” The call cuts off before he can do anything else, and Fitz throws his hands up in the air, spinning his chair one hundred eighty degrees, slumping back and letting his head follow. As soon as he does, he folds forward again. His ribs still ache from the abuse Ward inflicted on him, Coulson’s savage murder Ward right in front of his eyes still plagues his dreams two days later, and there’s still a deep hollow of hurt in his chest.

Jemma got off the Zephyr, went right to her room, and hadn’t come out since. He can still feel her fingers digging into his shoulders and she pulled him to her after he stepped out of the medpod. Hugging him tight, but clearly not having any intention of anything more. Not even another kiss pressed to his lips after all he’d gone through. All he’d declared.

He still remembers the pain that rocketed through him when he realized she was desperate to see someone inside the medpod, but it wasn’t him.

He knows Jemma doesn’t owe him anything. It’s just that, after she kissed him, and cried as he was about to leave again, and made him promise to come back to her…he thought that maybe there was a shift.

But, in the end, it wasn’t him she’d wanted to return so desperately. It was probably _never_ going to be him.

Fitz swears and headsto the gym for an hour of punching things. First it's the punching bags, then the boxing pads when Bobbi takes pity on him and agrees to spar. It's only when she freezes and he clips her on the shoulder that he realizes something's off. Bobbi's five times the fighter he is, even when she's just working on his training.

He stops, dropping his arms to his sides, feeling his ribs ache all the more.

“Someone here to see you,” Bobbi says, tilting her chin up and looking the opposite of pleased, as she does any time Jemma comes seeking his attention.

It's Alyssa. Of course it's her. Except it takes Fitz a moment or two to register exactly who it is, because her tiny frame looks even smaller than usual, due to the lack of four-inch heels. She looks younger, too, with her hair in a ponytail and face free of all but the most basic makeup. She’d never be able to hide her incredible curves, but the baggy sweatshirt she wears comes close to doing the job.

“Alyssa, I –“

It only took those words to send her barreling toward him, slinging her arms around his neck, pulling him tight to her.

“I’m sweaty,” he finishes, huffing a breath out against the crook of her neck where she’s pinned his head. She really is freakishly strong.

She's trembling, too, Fitz realizes as his arms circle her waist like they belong there.

He pulls back, not moving his hands from her waist. “You okay?”  


“I just… you could’ve…I didn’t know you were in so much danger and I…” A sob escapes her lips and tears roll down her cheeks.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “Okay, let’s get you somewhere we can –“  Fitz screws up his mouth and lets the thought of what it would look like to the rest of the base to take the beautiful scientist back to his room and shut the door. But she's so distressed that he doesn't really care. “Just follow me.”

It's strange, walking beside Alyssa without the clacking of heels. Not like this is the _real_ her, necessarily, but a closer, more intimate version. Like a beautiful, responsive teddy bear, who he’d had amazing sex with just weeks ago. Okay, now he’d be ruined on teddy bears for a very long time.

They reached his door and he quickly punched in the code, fully aware that Alyssa was most likely watching, that she could memorize it if she wanted to. He tipped his head toward the bed, and she traipsed over, practically melting into the messy pile of sheets and coverlet, drawing her legs up so that her ankles crossed beneath opposite knees.  Tears still trickled down her cheeks, and Fitz’s instinct to comfort pushed away any strength he may have had to stay away from her, no matter how it looked to the rest of the base. He lets the door shut and settles beside her, rubbing her back. When she leans into him and lets her head fall on his shoulder, an unpleasant wave of déjà vu settles over him.

“For all I knew you  could’ve been killed,” she managed after a few long moments.

“You told me – you told _her_ – you were giving me space. That you weren’t going to fight for me.”

Her shoulders shake with laughter, and she pulls up to sit upright, to look into his eyes.

“What?” Fitz asks, confused.

“I should have known you would hack into that security feed.” She sweeps a tender palm over his cheek, leans in to press a soft, long kiss to his mouth. He leans into it, by instinct and maybe something a little more. It’s the first time in the last 72 hours he’s been able to take a deep breath, and the air feels sweet as it reaches all the way to the bottom of his lungs.

God, she’s like a miracle, an antidote to the heartbreak he’s been through for the past year. Or maybe she’s just like morphine.

Does it even matter anymore? Does he even care whether he's getting a cure or just something to numb the pain, if it helps?

When she finally pulls away, his eyelids float open. She’s studying his face, reading something that he’s not even sure he’s written there.

“Do you love her?”

Something inside Fitz breaks. Alyssa has been a friend, and has been fun, but somehow she’s also learned enough about him to ask this most important, and most unanswerable, question. She doesn’t have to specify who she’s asking about. There’s only ever been Jemma.

“I don’t know.” Possible answers tumble through his brain and twist together, destroying their viability. “ I think…” he raises his eyes to hers, and as painful as this will be, he knows he has to do it. “Yes,” he finishes in a whisper.

Alyssa sucks in a breath, which does nothing to stop the tears tumbling, one after the other, down her cheeks. 

“Does she know?”

“Yeah,” Fitz says, his thoughts trailing toward the conclusion Alyssa has already reached. Everyone already knows.

“But you’re still not together.”

“No,” Fitz whispers. Instead of the heart-shattering he expected, though, he instead feels a vast expanse inside him. Not happy and not devastated. Not filled with possibility, but not with despair, either. Just…nothing. “Our timing is just all buggered,” he supplies, lamely.

He can’t tell Alyssa that he and Simmons are cursed. Somehow that feels like a truth only he can share with Jemma, a truth that he’s embarrassed to have realized, one that represents how despair can push your brain away from the science you’ve believed in all your life.

He doesn’t even have science now. Nothing can explain every horrible thing that’s happened to him and Simmons.

Alyssa shrugs, then raises her eyes to his. What he sees there is fear, real and raw. “Maybe that’s true. So spend some time with me.”

“Pardon?”

“If you really are waiting for your timing to line up with hers, just…kill time here. With me.”

As if she could sense the relief and comfort the last one had brought him, she reached up and raked her fingers through is hair, kissing him firmly, this time trailing her tongue over the line where his lips met. He groaned, and, at the last moment, opened them to her.

“I need t’ shower,” Fitz manages, several moments later when she lets him up for air.

“I’ll join you.” He can see the worry in her eyes, that at any moment she could lose him, and he doesn’t want her to worry. Doesn’t want her to feel sad at all. Doesn’t want that to be their last kiss. Not really.

So he just nods as he stands, linking his fingers with hers, and silently leads her behind him to his private bathroom.

 ***

The water steams up the bathroom so that he can almost imagine that this is a dream. He feels guilty, even though he shouldn’t, at how much he adores the feel of her nails lightly scraping against the skin of his back as he kisses her, hard, and runs the soapy sponge over hers. He’s been putting on a brave, impassive face for so long, pretending that he doesn’t feel as much as he does, that he doesn’t worry at every turn, that he’s not constantly bombarded over whether he’s doing and saying the right thing.

He’s so very tired of taking care of everyone and everything before himself. Alyssa has come to take care of him, and it feels delicious.

She swings one of her arms away from him and around her own back, stopping the sponge where he’s let it linger at the small of her back, lazily moving it to the same location on his body as she sweeps her tongue into his mouth. He runs his tongue along the underside of hers, then nips the tip with his teeth, which makes her arch her back and press into him needily. When she goes up on her tiptoes, his already-hard cock nudges into the cleft between her thighs, and he head lolls back, a satisfied ‘mmm’ vibrating her lips against his collarbone.

This feels good, maybe too good, but as guilt floods his brain, guilt at loving Jemma but wanting this so badly, he reminds himself that Alyssa knows. She knew there was something between him and Jemma, and she came rushing to him after that mission anyway. Just like Jemma rushed to find Will in the pod, only turning to Fitz when he wasn’t there.

Fitz shakes off the thought and clutches at Alyssa’s waist, which is shaped like it was meant for him to grab. He rubs one, two circles over her hipbones with his thumbs, then makes a decision. He lets his palms skim down to cup her arse and he hoists her up so her face is level with his.

Alyssa squeaks and grins as she swings her legs around his waist, crossing them at the ankles and growling into another deep kiss. She pulls back, breathless from the exertion and steam. “Has there been anyone else? Since –“

“No,” he shakes his head, leaning his forehead against hers. “Do you have – um –“

“I started on the pill,” she says, gasping as his cock slicks through her folds, dragging along her clit. “We should be fine,” she pants before plundering his mouth with another hot, yet somehow sweet, kiss.

“OhthankGod,” he murmurs as he presses her hard into the wall of the shower so he can move one hand from supporting her. He reaches down, lines himself up, and, after silently looking into her eyes for permission, surges into her.

A long, satisfied moan comes from deep in Alyssa’s chest, only tapering off after Fitz has pumped into her three times. “God, don’t stop,” she mumbles as her forehead drops to his shoulder.

He never had any intention of doing so.

His ribs ache with every rocking motion, but at least now, it has a purpose. He’s not tumbling down a rocky hill toward nothing, he’s chasing something, even though it’s a little temporary pleasure, even though he’s already declared that his heart lies with someone else. Even though he’s now wondering, as the first ripples of pleasure start to work their way through his veins, if he hadn’t been wrong.

 _Does_ he love Jemma?

 _Could_ he, really, if he’s giving himself over to another woman in this way?

He doesn’t have much time to think too much about it, and he’s glad for it. Without the condom, he can tell Alyssa’s close, too, by the miraculous little flutters her muscles tease against his shaft. He takes half a step back so there’s a gap between her torso and his, changing the angle and force of his thrusts, targeting the G-spot he may have spent a few minutes reading up after their first time together. It’s only when he separates from her a bit that he’s aware of the small grunts and moans he’s been letting out with every thrust, as they echo back to him from the stark white tile walls.

“Oh, God, Leo, I’m gonna –“

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he mutters, surprised at the commanding tone coming from his own lips. “Come for me.”

And she does, with a wild thrashing of her neck and screams made up of incoherent syllables peppered with his name. He follows her two seconds later, unable to stop pumping into her thinking for just a moment as his vision gets all starry that he can see eternity, and that it might just involve her.

He holds her close as she shudders and shakes, laughing and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his collarbone. She seems to like that spot on him, and he’s not arguing. Eventually his arms begin to shake, too, and he moves a hand up to let her leg drop.

“You’ve had a long day,” he murmurs into the patch of skin just beneath her ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”

“Stay with me?” she asks dreamily. “Just for tonight.”

“At least for tonight,” he agrees as he fills the sponge with soap again.

They don’t leave the steamy cocoon of the shower until the water starts to run cold.

***

Bobbi and Hunter stroll down the hall after dinner, toward the room they’d been sharing for months now. Bobbi’s head is full of worry and half-baked plans, so she lets Hunter ramble on. It’s one of the things he’s best at, and she’ll be giving him something better to do with his mouth in a moment, anyway.

“…but at least Fitz and Jemma finally got themselves together properly, yeah?”

“Fitz and I what?”

Bobbi snaps her head up to see that Jemma has just rounded the corner, heading toward the mess after everyone else had likely already finished. Ghosting around the base is like her new area of expertise, and it’s been worrying Bobbi. Now it’s scared the shit out of her as well.

Hunter’s mouth drops open. “But I just – I mean, I _literally_ just heard the two of you a minute ago in the shower, but now you’re – oh, bugger,” he moans, dragging a palm down over his face.

“I haven’t seen Fitz since we got back from England,” Jemma murmurs, blinking furiously against the tears pooling in her eyes.

Bobbi, of course, knows who Fitz was enthusiastically fucking in the shower, and it obviously wasn’t Jemma. “Get the fuck out of here,” she growls at Hunter.

“Bob, I’m sorry, I had no clue that –“

“Back to the bunk. We’ll talk later,” she snaps. She doesn’t have to tell him three times. He slinks off, apologetic puppy-dog eyes trained to the floor.

Jemma doesn’t say anything, just stares at Bobbi with pleading eyes, begging the older woman to tell her something, anything, to undo what she already knows is true.

“Oh, sweetie,” Bobbi says, reaching out her arms and letting Jemma sob into her shirt. “It’ll be okay.”

After several long minutes, during which Bobbi thanks the stars nobody else wanders down this particular hallway, Bobbi walks Jemma back to her bunk, tucking her into bed and stroking her hair while she cries herself to sleep.

And here she’d been thinking that she and Hunter had seen the worst possible relationship problems.

***

Alyssa MacTaggart sleeps naked.

Jemma, as long as Fitz has known her, always slept in one of his old shirts – from M.I.T., or S.H.I.E.L.D. academy, or even from this high school in Glasgow after that time she’d come home with him for Christmas. When he imagines happily sleeping with someone after doing – well, _that_ – he’s always imagined Jemma swathed in stretchy-soft cotton that used to belong to him.

But, Fitz thinks as he dozes off with Alyssa’s snoring head full of damp waves pillowed on his chest, maybe the future wouldn’t always live up to his imagination. Maybe it would be okay, anyway.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be better.


End file.
